Military Unionism in the Post-Cold War Era
Little has been written about military unionism since the great debates of the 1970s and yet the changing nature of present day conflicts has made soldier representation more important then ever. Richard Bartle and Lindy Heinecken, two wellknown authorities in this area, have brought together a contemporary collection of essays from experts in 12 countries. The book establishes what the drivers are in the military union debate in recent years and highlights the various mechanisms different armed forces have created to deal with the aspirations of their members. Placing military unionism in comparative perspective it provides a broad basis for the examination of international military unionism in the respective countries from the viewpoint of those with no unions (UK, Canada, France and Italy), those recently unionised (South Africa, Ireland, Australia and Slovenia) and those unionised for some time (Germany, Netherlands, Denmark and Belgium). This book will be of interest to students, researchers and professionals in military studies, defence management and sociology of the armed forces. Richard Bartle was an army officer for 25 years. He is a former lecturer at Cranfield University, Royal Military College of Science, specialising in military aspects of human resource management. He has published widely on many topics including trade unions in the armed forces and has edited three books on human resource management in the armed forces. He is now a freelance writer and lecturer. Lindy Heinecken currently serves as the Deputy Director of the Centre for Military Studies (CEMIS) at the South African Military Academy. She has published numerous articles and chapters in books on a wide variety of defence human resource issues including the management of diversity, gender integration, military unionism, the impact of HIV/AIDS on security and civil–military relations.
Cass Military Studies
Intelligence Activities in Ancient Rome: Trust in the Gods, But Verify Rose Mary Sheldon Clausewitz and African War: Politics and Strategy in Liberia and Somalia Isabelle Duyvesteyn Strategy and Politics in the Middle East, 1954–60: Defending the Northen Tier Michael Cohen
Khedive Ismail’s Army John Dunn Yugoslav Military Industry 1918–1991 Amadeo Watkins Corporal Hitler and the Great War 1914–1918: The List Regiment John Williams Rostóv in the Russian Civil War, 1917–1920: The Key to Victory Brian Murphy
The Cuban Intervention in Angola, 1965–1991: From Che Guevara to Cuito Cuanavale Edward George
The Tet Effect, Intelligence and the Public Perception of War Jake Blood
Military Leadership in the British Civil Wars, 1642–1651: ‘The Genius of this Age’ Stanley Carpenter
The US Military Profession into the 21st Century: War, Peace and Politics Sam C. Sarkesian and Robert E. Connor, Jr. (eds)
Israel’s Reprisal Policy, 1953–1956: The Dynamics of Military Retaliation Ze’ev Drory
Civil-Military Relations in Europe: Learning from Crisis and Institutional Change Hans Born, Marina Caparini, Karl Haltiner and Jürgen Kuhlmann (eds)
Bosnia and Herzegovina in the Second World War Enver Redzic Leaders in War: West Point Remembers the 1991 Gulf War Frederick Kagan and Christian Kubik (eds)
Strategic Culture and Ways of War Lawrence Sondhaus Military Unionism in the Post-Cold War Era: A Future Reality? Richard Bartle and Lindy Heinecken (eds)
Military Unionism in the Post-Cold War Era A future reality? Edited by
Richard Bartle and Lindy Heinecken
With a Foreword by Christopher Dandeker
First published 2006 by Routledge 2 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN Simultaneously published in the USA and Canada by Routledge 270 Madison Ave, New York, NY 10016 Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business © 2006 Edited by Richard Bartle and Lindy Heinecken
This edition published in the Taylor & Francis e-Library, 2006. “To purchase your own copy of this or any of Taylor & Francis or Routledge’s collection of thousands of eBooks please go to www.eBookstore.tandf.co.uk.” All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library Library of Congress Cataloging in Publication Data Military unionism in the post Cold War era : a future reality?/edited by Richard Bartle and Lindy Heinecken. p. cm. — (Cass military studies) Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN 0-415-38533-4 (hardback) 1. Military unions. I. Bartle, Richard. II. Heinecken, Lindy. III. Series. UH740.M56 2006 331.88′11355—dc22 2005028514 ISBN10: 0-415-38533-4 (Print Edition) ISBN13: 978-0-415-38533-6
Contents
List of figures and tables Notes on Contributors Foreword: CHISTOPHER DANDEKER 1 An overview of military unionism in the post-Cold War era
vii viii xi 1
LINDY HEINECKEN
PART I
Countries with no unions 2 The British armed forces: No trust, no representation, no change
15
17
RICHARD BARTLE
3 The Italian armed forces: Towards a new need for representation
35
ERALDO OLIVETTA
4 The French military and union rights: At the margin of full citizenship?
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MICHEL LOUIS MARTIN
5 Freedom of association and the Canadian forces: Current status and future trends
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KELLY FARLEY, RICK WALKER AND DAN MENDOZA
PART II
Countries recently unionised 6 South Africa: Facing the challenge of military unionism LINDY HEINECKEN
83 85
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Contents
7 Military unionism in Slovenia: A way ahead for soldiers’ interests?
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MAJA GARB AND LJUBICA JELUŠICˇ
8 Unions in the Irish defence forces: From struggle for representation to mutually beneficial cooperation
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JEAN CALLAGHAN
9 The Armed Forces Federation of Australia: The union that isn’t a union
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HUGH SMITH
PART III
Countries unionised for some time
151
10 Military unionism in Belgium
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PHILIPPE MANIGART, DELPHINE RESTEIGNE AND REINHALD SABBE
11 Unions and the German armed forces: The citizen in uniform
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JEAN CALLAGHAN
12 Military unions in the Netherlands: Pluralism, participation and pacification
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RENÉ MOELKER
13 Danish trade unions and their political role
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HENNING SØRENSEN
14 Placing military unionism in a comparative perspective
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RICHARD BARTLE
Index
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Figures and tables
Figures 7.1 Opinions of the Slovenian military on the topic of military unionism 13.1 National security positions of Denmark, AD 750–2005 13.2 SWOT analysis of the Danish trade unions – the employees
111 198 206
Tables 12.1 12.2 13.1 13.2 13.3
Overview of some of the Associations/Unions Actors in the consultative structure Differences in the foreign policies of the USA and Europe Composition of Danish armed forces 2004–2009 The three Danish military trade unions and their membership basis 13.4 Content analysis of editorials of the 2004 journals of Danish military trade unions
184 189 200 201 202 208
Contributors
Richard Bartle was a British Army officer for 25 years retiring in the rank of Lieutenant-Colonel. In his second career as an academic he worked for Cranfield University at the Royal Military College of Science specialising in Human Resource Management and Organisational Behaviour in the military before becoming a visiting professor in Human Resource Management at the University of Western Sydney. He has published widely on various aspects of military sociology including unionisation, the psychological contract and military personality profiles. He has co-edited three books on human resource management in the armed forces and is now a freelance lecturer and writer. Jean Callaghan is Acting Director of the Research Department at the Marshall Center, Garmisch-Partenkirchen, Germany. Ms Callaghan was previously an intelligence analyst in Washington, DC, writing on arms control and proliferation issues, as well as Soviet/Russian politico-military affairs. She was an interpreter and area expert for US – Russian war games, staff talks, and military-to-military exchanges. Ms Callaghan was a Council on Foreign Relations International Affairs Fellow at Harvard University’s Belfer Center for Science and International Affairs, where she conducted a research project sponsored by the Office of the Secretary of Defence. She has been a guest scholar at the Institute of USA and Canada in Moscow and worked as a research analyst for Radio Free Europe/ Radio Liberty. Ms Callaghan graduated summa cum laude and Phi Beta Kappa from the University of Connecticut, with a BA in Russian Area Studies and a BA in German Language and Literature. She took her MA in Russian and East European Studies at the Yale University School of Graduate Studies. Kelly Farley earned his PhD in Social Psychology from Carleton University and is a researcher and analyst in the ‘Shape Army Culture Project’ located at the National Defence Headquarters in Ottawa. He is the author of several papers in the area of stress in operations and the human dimension of operational readiness. His current research interests include military organisational culture issues such as the right of association, the ‘social contract’and the role of the regimental system in the development of army culture. Maja Garb is an Assistant Professor at the University of Ljubljana, Faculty of Social Sciences. Her current research interests are military unionism, the military
Contributors ix in peace operations, the civil–military gap, demobilisation and the re-integration of ex-combatants and ex-soldiers. Lindy Heinecken previously served as the Deputy Director of the Centre for Military Studies at the South African Military Academy. She has contributed to numerous books in the field of military sociology and has published widely on a range of subjects on defence human resources, most notably on employment relations and unionism in the armed forces. Other areas of research include the management of diversity within armed forces, civil–military relations and the impact of HIV/AIDS on Security. She is currently an Associate Professor at the Dept of Sociology, University of Stellenbosch. Ljubica Jelušicˇ is a Professor at the University of Ljubljana, Faculty of Social Sciences, teaching Polemology, Military Sociology, Peace Studies, and Civil– Military Relations. She currently serves as the Head of the Defence Studies Department. In addition to her academic work at the University of Ljubljana, she lectures at the Command and Staff College of the Slovenian Army, where she introduced the subject of Armed Forces and Society to the General Staff Programme, and Military Sociology to the Senior Officer Training Course. Her current research themes are the military in peace operations, military human resource management, the civil–military gap, military culture and unionism. Philippe Manigart is Professor of Sociology and Head of the Department of Behavioural Sciences at Brussels Royal Military Academy. He is also Associate Professor of Sociology at the Faculty of Economics of the University of MonsHainaut. He has an MA in Sociology from the University of Chicago and a PhD from the Free University of Brussels. Professor Manigart is a member of the Executive Board of the Research Committee 01 (Armed Forces and Conflict Resolution) of the International Sociological Association. He has published numerous books and articles on military organisations and European public opinion and security issues. Michel Louis Martin is Professor of Political Science at the Institute of Political Studies and the University of Toulouse. He is the Director of the Centre Morris Janowitz – Armed Forces and Security – and the post-graduate programme in international relations and security. He has been Visiting Scholar at the University of Chicago. He has written extensively on civil–military relations, comparative politics and constitutional law. Daniel Mendoza received a BA in Law and is currently working on a BSc in Chemistry from Carleton University. He is a Research Assistant to LieutenantColonel Kelly Farley and a web content adviser in the ‘ShapeArmy Culture Project’ located at the National Defence Headquarters in Ottawa. He is currently conducting research in support of the ‘Army Strategic Military Human Resources Plan’. Rene Moelker is Associate Professor of Sociology at the Royal Netherlands Military Academy. He holds a PhD from the Erasmus University Rotterdam. His work in military sociology concentrates on the sociology of military families,
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military technology, the military profession, international cooperation, political– military relations, the military sociology of Norbert Elias, military education, the conflict in Chechnya and media. Eraldo Olivetta is a Research Fellow in the Department of Social Sciences at the University of Torino in Italy. Presently he is a PhD student in Strategic Sciences at the University of Torino and his research is focusing on the military profession and military representation in the Italian Armed Forces. He is the author of several articles in the field of Military Sociology, and has also published on other sociological topics including the sociology of tourism, professional training and education for management. Delphine Resteigne is Teaching Assistant at the Department of Behavioural Sciences at Brussels Royal Military Academy. She has a BA (licence) in Sociology from the University of Liège and an MA in international relations from the Free University of Brussels. She is currently a PhD candidate at both the Free University of Brussels and the Royal Military Academy. Her dissertation analyses the role of cultural and organisational factors in multinational task forces involved in crisis response operations. Reinhald Sabbe is an Air Force Lieutenant in the Belgian Armed Forces. He is currently Teaching Assistant at the Department of Behavioural Sciences at Brussels Royal Military Academy. He has a BA (licence) in Social and Military Sciences from the Royal Military Academy. Before joining the Academy, Lt Sabbe was assigned to the Human Resource Directorate of the Belgian Defence. Hugh Smith is a Visiting Fellow in the School of Humanities and Social Sciences, University College, University of New South Wales at the Australian Defence Force Academy. During a long career teaching officer cadets and postgraduates, he has published widely on topics relating to armed forces and society in Australia, including conscientious objection, reserve forces, officer education, political–military relations, women and gays in the military, and the employment of military personnel in law enforcement. He has also edited and contributed to works on strategy, peacekeeping and defence policy and recently published a book on Clausewitz. Henning Sørensen PhD is Director of the Institute for Sociological Research (ISF), a small private consulting company in Copenhagen. He is a Fellow of the Inter-University-Seminar on Armed Forces & Society, IUS, and a member of the European Research Group on Armed Forces and Society, ERGOMAS, and has served on the Editorial Board of the Dansk Sociologi, the national sociological journal. He has contributed to numerous books within the field of Military Sociology. Richard J. Walker PhD is a graduate political historian from the University of Western Ontario, who is presently serving as the Ethics Desk Officer for the Land Staff at National Defence Headquarters in Ottawa. He has published and presented a variety of papers on the historical evolution of Canadian civil–army relations. Major Walker is presently active in the design and implementation of the new Canadian Army – Army Culture and Ethics (ACE) programme.
Foreword
During the 1970s, for analysts of the Western military establishment the subject of unions as a means of representing the interests of armed forces personnel was a major topic of debate – especially in the European context. At the same time, there was a wider debate about whether those who served in the military were members of a distinctive institution; one that was set apart from wider society and focused on values of self-sacrifice, collectivism, physical and moral courage, all of which underpinned their role as armed servants of the state willing and able to exercise lethal force on its behalf. Or were service personnel members of an occupation, organised on much the same lines as other areas of civilian life: was military life becoming just like another job or was it, and should it, remain much more than that? Both then and since, military sociologists have asked the question: how far can and should the military remain distinctive because of the functional imperative of having to be able to exercise lethal force against an armed enemy, and to what extent should it reflect the values and ways of life of the wider civilian community, which it is sworn to defend and from which it gains its legitimacy, its recruits and to which it returns service personnel at the end of their – often quite short – military careers to become civilians once more. Whether the functional or societal imperatives should prevail or how best to balance these competing principles and whether, indeed, these principles should be seen in such stark either–or terms continue to underpin key debates in the sociology of the military. A central feature of a traditional, institutional military is that, subject to the rule of military and wider laws, pre-eminence is given to the chain of command, which means that service personnel must look to their commanding officers when faced with difficulties concerning their terms and conditions of service rather than to some kind of autonomous form of group representation of their interests. We know that the history of the armed forces shows that there are cases where military personnel have been entitled to be members of unions and cases where this has been forbidden. In addition, it is widely known that a key question has been not only how to explain this diversity of cases but also to describe and explain the consequences of unions, or their absence, for the operational effectiveness of the armed services – especially as opponents of unions including people within the services have argued that compromising the chain of command is bound to
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undermine the organisational backbone of a key resource of the modern state: its ability to rely on an efficient means of exercising lethal force should that be required. Richard Bartle and Lindy Heinecken, two of the leading scholars of military unionism, have brought together country experts to discuss these issues in a contemporary and comparative context. The appearance of this volume is timely as, after more than 30 years, the subject has once again become topical. One reason for this is that not only have the technological and social trends of the past 30 years continued to undermine the traditional, institutional military – although whether that ipso facto leads or must lead to a diminution of military effectiveness should by no means be assumed – but the post-Cold War environment has added further pressures that have made unionism in the military context a lively subject again – even in the most traditional cases such as the UK. Here, as in the US, the armed services have been cut and reshaped to such an extent that junior and middle ranks have wondered whether their senior officers have been far too close or loyal to their political masters during this process of restructuring and if, as a result, they have failed to do enough to defend the collective interests of service personnel with regard to their pay and conditions of service. These conditions include the consequences of operational overstretch of smaller but busier armed forces – in terms of frequency of deployments – for the morale and wellbeing of service personnel and their families. Furthermore, as we know from recent contributions to the ‘civil–military gap’ debate, the institutional presence of the military in the legislature, the executive and wider community of opinion formers is not what it was, and this has led more and more service personnel to ask: Who will look after us? Should we do more to look after ourselves? Military unionism has thus returned as a subject for scholars and policy practitioners as well as service personnel: all will benefit from reflecting on the analysis and findings of this collection of essays. Christopher Dandeker Professor of Military Sociology Department of War Studies, King’s College, London
1
An overview of military unionism in the post-Cold War era Lindy Heinecken
INTRODUCTION Since the end of the Cold War, the armed forces of most developed democracies have been subjected to far-reaching reforms. Most can be directly related to the change in the nature of perceived threats, both nationally and internationally and the obligation of respective armed forces to respond to an ever-widening spectrum of tasks. In recent years many scholars have noted how the armed forces have adapted to the new security environment, which marked not only a change in mission focus, but also to organisational and force structures as they became obligated to function under increasingly stringent budgetary constraints (Moskos et al. 2000; Burk 1998; Dandeker and Weibull 1999; Manigart 2003: 329). This marked the beginning of an era of smaller, more cost-effective forces, more geared towards meeting the obligations of expeditionary missions abroad. For most, changes in both organisational and force structure followed the processes adopted by the commercial business sector to ensure greater cost-effectiveness and flexibility, not only in their modus operandi, but also in their employment practices. Whereas in the past, military employment was regarded as a job for life, in the post-Cold War era it has become more segmented, contract based and civilianised. For those fortunate enough to have a long-term career, career prospects and advancement became more limited due to base closures, the practice of jointness (merging of logistics, training, headquarters functions) and delayering (reducing the number of posts available within the hierarchy), the civilianisation of support posts and the outsourcing of peripheral tasks. Amidst this ongoing transformation, armed forces were busier than ever before, being deployed across the world as components of national contingents in various missions, ranging from those approximating to warfare to disaster relief operations. High operational tempo soon led to problems of overstretch, undermanning and work–life balance, exacerbating problems of recruitment and retention in many countries. In some, where little participation in decision-making has been allowed, faith in the ability of the military leadership to address their concerns has become strained. This has led some to raise the issue of whether the time has now come for some form of ‘independent voice’ through which they can articulate
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Lindy Heinecken
their needs to military leadership, government and civil society. This growing interest in some form of military unionism is reflected in the membership of the European Organisation of Military Associations (EUROMIL) which has increased from seven member associations in 1972 to 34 associations in 2005. When the ‘issue’ of military unionism emerged in the 1970s shortly after the Vietnam War, Charles Moskos cautioned that the shift from an institutional to an occupational (I/O) dispensation would cause the soldier as employee to seek the same qualities from their work environment as civilian employees enjoyed, including the right to participate in decisions affecting their working lives. Where military service as a ‘calling’ is replaced with military service as a ‘job’, it implies a priority of self-interest rather than that of the employing organisation. A common form of self-interest, he claimed, was the trade union (Moskos and Wood 1998: 17). What one has witnessed in the post-Cold War era, is an acceleration of these ‘civilianising’ influences, not only in terms of employment practices, but also in terms of professional education, training and the identity of military personnel. Armed forces have also become more subject to pressures emanating from broader society. Equality of rights, including employment rights, has featured prominently on the social agenda of armed forces. On the issue of gender and homosexuality, the courts have obligated the armed forces to open their ranks to these groups. Similarly, the issue of freedom of association for military personnel and the right to belong to trade unions is subject to widespread debate in countries that presently curtail these rights for military personnel (Van-Ardennevan der Hoeven 2002: 3). Another societal trend exerting an influence on employee relations is the rise in individualism. Wither (2004: 8), for example, claims that ‘because of social and legislative changes, employees are less likely to tolerate what they perceive as intimidating or offensive behaviour from superiors or colleagues and are more likely to make formal complaints to seek legal redress’. Naturally where individual deprivation is transformed into a sense of collective deprivation, the inclination towards unionism is heightened. Others claim that in recent years the push for unionisation relates more specifically to aspects of social change affecting the military organisation (Caforio 2003). Where the status of the military in society is seen to have declined and where soldiers experience a measure of deprivation, this too seems to promote the need for some form of professional association or union. One of the main causes of the spread of unionisation within the armed forces is the divestment of government from the interests of the military. Where government no longer acts as guarantor for the military, the inclination to form pressure groups to protect soldiers’ interests is enhanced. This is especially so where a government’s divestment is associated with a loss of prestige and social esteem in the military community, and where members of the armed forces have experienced a decline in their standard of living or tenure (Harries-Jenkins 1977: 68). The response of respective armed forces to the prospect of unionisation has varied widely. Most European armed forces have long accepted some form of group representation as an inevitable trend towards greater industrial democracy
Military unionism in the post-Cold War era 3 and worker participation. The central argument is that it is socially unjust or undemocratic if members of the armed forces are denied the right of freedom of association and to join a union to protect their interests, especially if these rights are guaranteed to other state employees. Those against the extension of labour rights maintain that these rights must yield to the unique nature and role of the military. Here the concern is that unionisation may not only undermine combat capability, but also organisational effectiveness thereby threatening the ability of the military to carry out its mission. A third area of deliberation is the effect of military unions upon the political control of the armed forces. The opinion has been expressed that should the armed forces be granted the right to join unions for the purpose of collective bargaining with the state as employer, it would significantly alter the civil–military status quo (Caforio 2003: 312–14). The traditional role of a trade union is to regulate the employment relationship through the direct process of collective bargaining, which implies representation of an interest group (the bargaining unit, i.e. military personnel) in competition with the established authority (management, i.e. military leadership/government). In most cases, ‘military trade unions’ do not resemble unions in the classic sense and are closer in character to some professional associations. Often their activities have been constrained by normal regulations pertaining to military law and discipline as a result of the concerns formerly raised. Some only have consultative rights and so act more like professional associations than unions, while others have been granted the same labour rights as other public servants. There appears to be no blueprint for military unionism and a mosaic of representative structures has emerged within armed forces, influenced largely by their history and broader societal environment.
APPROACH OF THE BOOK While there is great similarity in the way armed forces have restructured to deal with the new challenges they face, and the subsequent impact on military service, there is great diversity in terms of how armed forces manage employee relations. For this reason, 12 countries, all of which to a greater or lesser extent have faced the prospect of military unionism, have been included in this volume. Though by no means a comprehensive summary of the respective contributions, this introductory chapter provides a brief overview – ‘a taste’ of the central themes of each contribution. The first group of countries – the United Kingdom, Italy, France and Canada – has restricted the right of military personnel to belong to some form of military union. Instead, they have adopted various paternalistic, institutional or sophisticated human resource strategies to address areas of dissatisfaction, despite the need (or pressure) in some cases for independent representation. The second category of ‘newly unionised’ countries includes South Africa, Slovenia (two young democracies), Ireland and Australia. The third category is the older Western European countries, with a long history of ‘military unionism’. This selection
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provides a broad overview of the kind of personnel problems armed forces have faced, what internal and external forces act as driving or restraining forces in the development of military unions and how armed forces and unions are dealing with the changing demands placed upon them in the post-Cold War era. Starting with the countries with no form of independent representation outside the chain of command, Richard Bartle discusses the position of the British Armed Forces (BAF). His subtitle, ‘No trust, no representation, no change’ aptly sums up the British case. He starts by saying that although there have been various attempts to unionise the BAF stretching back to 1919 they were never realised. It was not until 1995 when the Bett Report indicated substantial support for some form of independent representation that renewed debate around the issue emerged. At the time, the impact of downsizing, cost-cutting initiatives and overstretch and the inability of personnel to influence matters affecting their conditions of service, led to what he terms a ‘lack of trust’ and a breakdown of the ‘psychological contract’ between service members and military leadership. The fact that no independent mechanisms exist within or outside the chain of command through which military personnel can collectively influence or participate in decisions affecting their work lives, appears to have exacerbated this. Although routine investigations and attitude surveys solicit the views of members, there is no clear evidence that these inputs are taken into consideration by higher authority, or influence decisions on pay, allowances and service conditions made by the Independent Pay Review Board. Bartle believes that this has led to the perceived need for some form of independent representation for service members, along the same lines as the Police Federation, which has both the right to negotiation and arbitration. Tensions surrounding medical benefits, housing, pensions and sub-standard and inadequate equipment, fuel this need. Even so, there has been no real drive from within the British armed forces for independent representation, largely due to the resistance by military leadership and government to this. Whether European legislation will open up legal opportunity to form a ‘federation’ remains to be seen. On the Italian armed forces, Eraldo Olivetta sketches the changes that the shift to an all-volunteer force in the post-Cold War era had on organisational and force restructuring. He argues that downsizing, the civilianisation of military posts (of which many were formerly performed by conscripts) and outsourcing had a significant impact on military employment. Not only did the Italian armed forces face massive downsizing but also the restructuring caused personnel shortages and surpluses at various levels within the forces. This had a marked effect on the career paths and prospects of military personnel. At the same time they faced other challenges, relating to a shortage in resources, a lack of logistical support and additional pressures of work/family life. Besides this, the greatest area of dissatisfaction relates to pay and service conditions and stems from ‘comparative’ disadvantage or deprivation experienced when compared with the private sector, police and European counterparts. Another source of discontent concerns the living conditions of military personnel and the impact of frequent deployment and relocation on family life and relations.
Military unionism in the post-Cold War era 5 Last, but not least, is the impact of the new system of recruitment on career progression, security of tenure and transfer to civilian employment. Overall, the impression is that military service in Italy is not an attractive career option. Even with high levels of unemployment the Italian armed forces experience recruitment deficits. In Italy, the system of internal ‘group representation’ set up in 1978 provides some mechanisms through which military personnel can bring matters to the attention of higher authority. This three-tier system allows for representation on a range of issues at unit, middle (intermediate) and central level to enhance participation and decision-making. The author discusses how the system of representation functions and its present limitations. One of the main reasons why he claims there is an interest in some form of military unionism is the continued subservience of this mechanism to the chain of command and its inability to ensure that the needs of members are taken into consideration. However, neither military leadership nor government appears receptive to the idea of a military union, opting rather to expand the powers of the representative system. In the closing section, the attitudes of military personnel towards some form of military unionism is discussed as well as the alternatives currently being considered, although the exact course this will follow is uncertain. Michel Louis Martin, representing the case of the French armed forces, puts forward a somewhat different position on military unionism. In his chapter, Martin argues that the issue of military unionism in France must be viewed within the context of the wider debate surrounding ‘universal rights’, many of which have been restricted for the armed forces for the sake ‘of security and neutrality’. This is particularly the case where it pertains to the rights of military personnel to belong to trade unions and professional associations, which are seen as incompatible with the ‘rules of military discipline’. In France these continue to be curtailed, despite recent revisions to the General Statute for Military Personnel in 2005. Martin casts doubt over whether the reasons citied for restricting the union rights of military personnel are justified, given that the French police and other European armed forces have these rights and the potential impact European Legislation in the field of employment law may have on the French armed forces. At present, most arguments against the right to unionise by both military personnel and the public are based on the ‘unique nature of military service’, the impact it may have on the principle of neutrality of the armed forces and its potential effect on internal cohesion. Other issues concern the risk a union could pose to the autonomy of the military by interfering with the activities of the military and the impact of unions on military readiness. At the political level, even those parties to the left are more inclined to support an upgrading of the internal structures of representation, than military unionism. Nor do many military personnel subscribe to the idea of a union, due to the status they afford their ‘unique’ profession, the need for discipline and political neutrality as well as the level of industrial activism associated with French trade unionism. Far more important for military personnel is the right of ‘freedom of speech’. Consequently, various mechanisms have been put in place to give military
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personnel a greater say in matters affecting the ‘military condition’. Structures exist within the chain of command, at a local level to solicit the opinions of members and to allow a degree of participation in decision-making and, at a national level to provide input on issues of wider interest. A recent innovation is the establishment of a High Committee for the evaluation of the Military Condition, an independent review body similar to the British Armed Forces Pay Review Board. However, Martin states that despite these mechanisms, which have been expanded in the post-Cold War era to allow greater consultation, there are a number of limitations and criticisms. Whether this will lead to a desire for some form of independent representation remains mute. Factors that could influence the situation include the impact of European statutes affecting the armed forces in terms of the acceptance of universal rights. Others include a possible increase for ‘independent’ representation given the new and more complex set of grievances that are emerging from within the ranks. However, any amendments in the universal rights of soldiers would be subject to wider public and political sanction. For the time being French military personnel appear satisfied with the internal mechanisms and unionisation has to some extent been a ‘non issue’. Another country with no form of ‘independent’ representation is the Canadian Forces. Kelly Farley, Rick Walter and Dan Mendoza claim that although studies show an interest in military unions among members of the armed forces, there has been little attempt to ‘unionise’. This does not mean that the subject has not surfaced as an issue, both in the Cold War and post-Cold War era. Whereas in the former period, the main issues of concern were about pay parity, the present sources of grievance relate to a lack of trust and a breach in the so-called unwritten ‘social contract’ that military personnel have with the government. Numerous attempts to address these concerns have been made by the Veterans’ association SCONDVA and other Quality of Life initiatives, which to some extent have removed the incentives to unionise. Other factors limiting the opportunity to associate are the restrictions imposed on military personnel by the Queen’s Regulations and Orders. However, a recent ruling by the Supreme Court of Canada on the freedom of association has meant that the CF cannot legally prevent members from joining independent organisations for the collective exercise of their individual rights. According to the authors, it is not sure which way the CF may migrate in pursuit of a representative voice. To some extent the incentive to unionise has been obviated by the implementation of a range of mechanisms of voice in the post-Cold War era. Members have access to an Ombudsman and a new streamlined grievance system, but these mechanisms, it is claimed, do not adequately resolve dissatisfaction and disillusionment within ranks. A significant proportion of members continue to express support for some kind of professional association or union. Although attempts to get such an organisation off the ground have failed, it has forced the CF to consider various options should such an attempt become a reality. Moving on to countries that have accommodated, or been compelled to accept some form of group representation in the past 15–20 years, an interesting picture
Military unionism in the post-Cold War era 7 emerges. Of all the countries presented in the volume, South Africa presents one of the most controversial cases of military unionism. In the opening section Lindy Heinecken outlines the challenges that the newly formed South African National Defence Force (SANDF) faced in terms of budgetary constraints, the integration process, downsizing, rising labour discontent and force restructuring. To a greater or lesser extent all these factors impacted on the career prospects and job security of military personnel. Interest in military trade unions grew not only from the insecurities created during the transformation process, but also from other internal and external factors such as a strong trade union culture within society, the lack of mechanisms of redress and, most notably, the newly forged Constitution. Although the Defence Act prohibited members from belonging to trade unions, the right to freedom of association and labour rights guaranteed in the Constitution, provided the legal opportunity to form a union. Merely four months after the SANDF was formed, the South African National Defence Union came into being. This marked the beginning of a long struggle for recognition, as neither military leadership nor government was receptive to the idea. Eventually, and after a lengthy legal battle, the Constitutional Court, obligated the SANDF to promulgate regulations allowing trade unions. Despite this, military leadership has resisted the influence of the union, limiting the issues subject to negotiation. This has forced SANDU to resolve disputes by bargaining in the courts, rather than the usual process of collective bargaining. Ultimately it has been the courts that have obliged the SANDF to ‘accommodate’ the union and as such the relationship has been adversarial rather than consultative or cooperative. Although SANDU has not negatively affected discipline (perhaps loyalty) it is seen to have infringed on managerial prerogative. However, in the absence of any alternative mechanisms of redress, the union acts through submissions and the media as a watchdog, bringing matters to the attention of military leadership, parliamentary committees and the public. Like South Africa, military unionism in Slovenia brings to the fore new dimensions to the military union debate emanating from the challenges facing new democracies in the post-Cold War era. Maja Garb and Ljubica Jelusˇicˇ commence their discussion on military unionism in Slovenia with a description of the political transformation in Slovenia, the defence reforms that followed and the desire to form part of the European Security apparatus. The central features of these reforms were the acceptance of a new Constitution, the restructuring of the forces to enable them to participate in peacekeeping operations, and organisational reforms affecting the structure of military employment. While initially all enjoyed security of tenure, downsizing and the employment of members on term contracts brought about new tensions. Not only were many not aware of the conditions of their contracts, but also little was done to plan for the changeover from a military to a civilian career. Added to this, the lack of opportunity to take part in ‘lucrative’ international deployments, declining service conditions during such missions and public apathy towards the military, created a feeling of relative deprivation. However, it was not these factors that led to the
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establishment of military unions in Slovenia. Belonging to unions or syndicates is a Constitutional right which is also extended to members of the armed forces. Presently three unions represent military personnel, the Syndicate of the Ministry of Defence (SMD) established in 1994, representing military and other state employees. In 2004 a rival union, the Syndicate of Military, Defence and Protection (SMDP), was formed, which also permitted members from the private sector. This syndicate is currently the most vocal in advocating soldiers’ interests. The third union is the Syndicate of the Pilots of the Ministry of Defence, established in 1998. To date only the SMD has met the 15 per cent requirement for registration and has the sole right to represent its members’ interests. As such it has been included in negotiations with government about salaries. At the same time, it has been critical of the government’s decision to ‘shrink’ certain service benefits and has addressed issues of disciplinary abuse within the armed forces and legal aspects associated with members’ contracts. Despite the acceptance of military unions by members, military leadership and government alike, the authors claim that there is a certain apathy towards union membership and many believe that the unions have been relatively ineffective in negotiating and protecting the service conditions and status of military personnel. As conditions of service decline, the unions have become more adversarial in their stance, although rivalry among the military unions has undermined their power and influence. Moving on to the position of the Irish military, Jean Callaghan presents a more congenial picture of military unionism, as reflected in the subtitle ‘From struggle for representation to mutually beneficial cooperation’. She starts off by indicating that the late 1980s and 1990s saw rising discontent among service members as pay and service conditions declined and the armed forces faced downsizing and base closures. During this period Irish soldiers had no official channel though which to influence policy makers or the Irish public, as speaking to the press was strictly prohibited. The public was also apathetic towards the military and it was only with the escalation of the ‘Troubles’ in the North and greater participation in peacekeeping operations that the military gained some standing. As conditions for Irish military personnel worsened during the 1980s, it was the military wives who led the campaign to improve conditions of service. The success of the National Army Spouses’ Association (NASA) fuelled the desire among military personnel to form their own representative association based on the legal foundation of Article 40 of the Irish Constitution that guaranteed freedom of association. In 1989 the Permanent Defence Forces Other Ranks Representative Association (PDFORRA) was formed with the advice and assistance of EUROMIL. Although the military leadership initially opposed the formation of PDFORRA, the government soon realised that the public supported their plight. This led to an amendment to the Defence Act and the recognition of PDFORRA. Soon afterwards the Representative Association of Commissioned Officers (RACO) was established. Both were permitted to submit proposals on welfare, pay and conditions for independent adjudication, but were prohibited
Military unionism in the post-Cold War era 9 from making submissions on matters of discipline, operations and command, as well as to affiliate to outside organisations or to strike. Overall Callaghan maintains that independent representation in Ireland, based on the consultation and mutual respect, has improved trust in senior leadership, service conditions and grievance resolution. The unions have been successful in lobbying and influencing policies affecting their members and in initiating the appointment of a military Ombudsman – all of which is believed to have made the Irish Defence Forces ‘a better organisation’. Hugh Smith presents the Australian Defence Force’s (ADF) experience with military unions from a historical perspective. In the first period, 1901–1972 the ADF spent much of its time at war and there was little attempt to unionise the forces. Although discontent gave rise to a number of ‘mutinies’, conditions of service were largely determined through a process known as managerial advocacy, sometimes supplemented by the lobbying of veterans’ associations. Whereas government was not obliged to accept submissions from these bodies, they generally tried to achieve pay parity with civilian occupations. In the second period (1972–1989), with the shift to an all-volunteer force under a Labour government, conditions of service became a major issue for the politicians and improvements in pay, service and retirement benefits followed. However, this initiative clearly did not obviate the need for a military union. Importantly, Hugh Smith points out that the Labour government supported the idea, more so than the senior military leadership and the broader union movement. Despite earlier attempts, it was not until 1980, when discontent over conditions of service emerged and members felt ‘government and senior officers’ had let them down, that unionisation took hold. The government responded by establishing the office of Defence Force Ombudsman and a Defence Force Remuneration Tribunal, but, due to issues of impartiality, support for a Federation grew. Taking advice from the Police Federation, the Armed Forces Federation of Australia (ArFFA) was formed in 1984 and for most of the time has concentrated on bread and butter issues affecting the material well-being of those in uniform, as well as other economic and social issues affecting members. In the third post-Cold War period, the relationship between the government and the Federation is more positive and its use as a ‘safety valve to channel discontent’ has been recognised. Smith states that the impact of the ArFFA is shaped by several factors: policies determined by government, wider social pressures including pressures from other organisations, changes in workplace relations in civilian life and factors within the ADF itself. In recent years high operational tempo and the focus of the Labour government on pay and service conditions, together with other organisations representing members’ interests has meant that membership of ArFFA has remained low. Nonetheless, it serves as a critical voice, obligating government and service chiefs to take note of the Federation’s concerns. The last group of countries present those in Europe with a long history of military unionism. Starting with Belgium, which in comparison with other European nations has had unions only since the 1970s, Philippe Manigart, Delphine
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Resteigne and Reinhald Sabbe start by providing an overview of the origins of military unionism in Belgium, stretching back to 1920 when the first ‘charitable association’ for NCOs was formed. This remained the only category of organised military personnel until the 1960s, when the Association of Active Duty Officers and later a union representing enlisted personnel were established. However, it was only in 1975 and on the initiative of the socialist government that unions were legally recognised, albeit with restrictions on the issues subject to negotiation and on the right to strike. In the post-Cold War era, the Belgium armed forces were subject to far-reaching reforms. Conscription ended in 1992, the defence budget declined and a series of organisational changes were implemented to ensure greater cost-effectiveness, flexibility and deployability of the forces. Today, more so than in the past, the military unions are consulted on a broad range of personnel issues from recruitment to childcare activities. With increased participation in constabulary missions, quality of work/family life issues, compensation based on nature of deployment and psychological support have become matters subject to negotiation. Attempts are underway to improve participation in decision-making at unit level whilst at the higher levels, military authorities routinely consult the unions on policies and legislation affecting personnel. In subsequent sections, the authors discuss the difference between civilian and military personnel and the distinction between so-called representative and nonrepresentative recognised unions and their rights to consultation and negotiation. The rules for military and civilian personnel differ and so too does the level at which matters are deliberated. Currently, the unions are preoccupied with the impact that the Strategic Plan will have on the service contracts of members, on downsizing and on base closures. This is creating much tension and one of the crucial roles assumed by the unions is to ensure that the correct information reaches their members. In essence, the military unions portray themselves as partners, rather than adversaries in their relationship with the authorities. Of all the European examples of military unionism, the case of the German armed forces and the influential Bundeswehr-Verband (DBwV) is perhaps the most well known. Jean Callaghan begins this chapter by providing a brief overview of German security policy and how this has changed in the post-Cold War era, the missions the armed forces have taken part in, the recent restructuring of the armed forces and the challenges that the Bundeswehr has faced (and is facing) in terms of equipment, personnel and finances. She explains that it was really not until 2000, after the recommendations of two influential Commissions, that reforms were really implemented. Against this backdrop, the implications this has held for military personnel and their employment in the Bundeswehr are discussed. In Germany, military personnel are fortunate to have DBwV (which came into existence in 1956) to represent their interests. Besides the DBwV, German soldiers have numerous other avenues to influence decisions affecting employment and deployment both internally and externally. Soldiers can address concerns through the normal chain of command, they can appeal to civil courts and have
Military unionism in the post-Cold War era 11 access to an Ombudsman, and they may also seek redress through works councils or through Vertauensmänner (honest brokers). However, it is the DBwV that represents members at national and parliamentary level, and which exerts the greatest pressure on authorities in defence of members’ economic, social and political interests. Although the DBwV presents itself as a ‘vocational association’ it acts much like a union in its defence of members’ interests and in recent years has taken part in two protests to parliament. Because it is an organisation representing over 250,000 members, the government is loathe to ignore the DBwV and regularly consults the ‘association’ on a wide range of issues affecting military personnel. In general the relationship with both military leadership and the government is positive and collaborative although the DBwV has been assertive in defending the rights of its members, including challenging in the European Court of Justice the restriction on women serving in the armed forces. In conclusion, Callaghan draws attention to the important role the DBwV plays in EUROMIL. Much of the principles of the DBwV built on the ‘citizen in uniform’ are reflected in EUROMIL’s philosophy, which is currently campaigning across Europe for the right of freedom of association to be extended to all servicemen. Moving on to the Netherlands René Moelker begins his discussion by stating that pluralism is synonymous with Dutch culture and accordingly employee relations rest on the principles of consultative pluralism. After sketching the position of military unionism within the broader labour movement, he moves on to discuss the various stages in the development of military unionism. The first associations were formed in 1879 and although unions have faced repression by the government, when involved in semi-political activities, for the most part they existed in harmony despite the growing influence of socialism and class consciousness in broader society. In the second period from 1933 to the Second World War the relationship with the unions became more confrontational and antagonistic. This changed after the Second World War, when the military leadership adopted a more consultative approach to employee relations, drawing the associations into discussions over salaries and working conditions. The third period, which began in 1966, was influenced to a great extent by the formation of the Conscript union, which adopted a more militant stance on economic and social issues. In the final, post-Cold War period, the associations have become more union-like in terms of their negotiation style. The five military unions are all affiliated to the civilian national unions and differ little from civilian unions. Their influence is felt at various levels. They negotiate conditions of employment with the Assistant Secretary of State and on Defence Committees where issues of restructuring, organisational change and career management are deliberated. At unit level, works councils are consulted and have advisory rights. Military personnel are, however, subject to some restrictions; for example they may not strike, or hold public meetings or leak information to the press. In conclusion, Moelker claims that the military unions are influential – because both the state and ‘employers’ want them to be.
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Henning Sørensen commences the discussion on Denmark’s experience with military unionism by sketching the ‘rather unique’ course of events which followed the end of the Cold War in terms of Danish foreign and defence policy. Whereas other countries faced downscaling, the Danish forces shifted from being what he calls a defensive, non-proactive actor to being a strategic offensive actor. In recent years, this resulted in both an expansion of the combat forces and an increase in operational tempo and deployment on ‘selective’ missions. It is in this expanded scope of activities that the military trade unions have become involved. In Denmark trade unions are seen as important democratic institutions and are fully accepted in the armed forces. There are three military trade unions: the Hovedorganisationen af Officerer i Danmar (HOD) representing officers from all arms of service, the Centralforeningen af Stampersone (CS) NCOs and regulars (except the army) and the Hærens Korporal og konstabelforening (HKKF) members of the regular army. All three are integrated into the entire union system, and may negotiate conditions of service (although they have different aims). They even have the right to strike – although not in uniform. As Danish soldiers have become more extensively deployed on missions abroad, so the unions have expanded their influence to include operational matters. Although there are limitations, a Cooperation Agreement grants unions the right to take up any aspect of mutual interest. Included in the scope of negotiations are matters related to deployment, family support and even equipment. In the final section Sørensen highlights some of the strength and weaknesses of the different military trade unions and evaluates the types of issues they have addressed – internally, organisationally, at the policy level and in terms of military missions. He concludes by saying that the role trade unions play in enhancing ‘military efficiency is undeservedly ignored’. With this brief overview of the various contributions, we trust that whether you are a student, scholar, soldier, politician or policy maker, this rich diversity of case studies on military unionism in the post-Cold War era will stimulate you to read on, will remove some of the myths associated with this fascinating and controversial subject and stimulate further research on this much neglected topic.
References Burk, J. (1998) ‘Thinking Through the End of the Cold War’, in: The Adaptive Military: Armed Forces in a Turbulent World (J. Burk, ed.). New Brunswick, NJ: Transaction Publishers. Caforio, G. (2003) ‘Unionization of the Military: Representation of the Interests of Military Personnel’, in: Handbook of the Sociology of the Military (G. Caforio, ed.). New York: Kluwer Academic/Plenum Publishers. Dandeker, C. and Weibull, E. (1999) Facing Uncertainty: Flexible Forces for the TwentyFirst Century. Karlstad: Klaria Tryckeri Publishers. Harries-Jenkins, G. (1977) ‘Trade Unions in Armed Forces’, in: Military Unions: U.S. Trends and Issues (W. Taylor, R. J. Arango and R. Lockwood, eds). Beverly Hills/ London: Sage Publishers.
Military unionism in the post-Cold War era 13 Manigart, P. (2003) ‘Restructuring the Armed Forces’, in: Handbook of the Sociology of the Military (G. Caforio, ed.). New York: Kluwer Academic/Plenum Publishers. Moskos, C. C. and Wood, F. R. (1998) ‘Institutional and Occupational Trends in Armed Forces’, in: The Military, More than Just a Job? (Moskos, C. C. and Wood F. R., eds) Washington: Pergamon-Brassey’s, pp. 15–25. Moskos, C. C., Williams J. A. and Segal, D. (2000) ‘Armed Forces after the Cold War’, in: The Postmodern Military (C. C. Moskos, J. A. Williams and D. Segal, eds). New York: Oxford University Press. Van-Ardenne-van der Hoeven, A. (2002) Right of Association for Members of the Professional Staff of the Armed Forces. 9518. Parliamentary Assembly, Council of Europe. Wither, J. K. (2004) Battling Bullying in the British Army 1987–2004. Electronic journal of Social Sciences. Available at HTTP:
(accessed 01/14/2005).
Part I
Countries with no unions
2
The British armed forces No trust, no representation, no change Richard Bartle
INTRODUCTION In most European countries the concept of the ‘citizen in uniform’ is widely accepted and unionisation is seen as a right of all citizens, irrespective of their occupation. To date (April 2005) there are 21 European states with some form of military union (Euromil 2005). Indeed, of the original 15 members of the European Union only Britain, Sweden and Luxembourg have no military representative body; and yet, ironically, probably the first military trade union was formed in the British armed forces in 1919 (Englander 1987). Fuelled by delays in demobilisation and the poor treatment of conscripts at the end of World War I, the Soldiers’, Sailors’ and Airmen’s Union (SSAU) was formed. It grew rapidly to an estimated membership of 10,000 in April 1919 (Englander 1987: 10). But efforts to secure the right of representation for the armed forces were short-lived. The authorities reacted speedily to the perceived ‘Bolshevik’ threat by demobilising and discharging ‘men who [were] largely imbued with unionism tinged with socialism’ (Englander 1987: 11). A raid by the intelligence services on the SSAU headquarters on 5 May 1919 discredited the organisation and led to its rapid demise. Similar unrest towards the end of World War II caused by delays in demobilisation and repatriation led to some extreme actions such as the mutinies by RAF servicemen (Judd 1996: 335). However, it was not until the late 1970s that renewed attempts were made to organise a military union. Pay parity with other comparable workers was seen to be eroding (Hollingworth 1977; Richey 1978) and some soldiers contacted trade unions to represent them in their fight for better terms and conditions of service (Cortwright and Watts 1991). The Transport and General Workers Union and the Association of Scientific, Technical and Managerial Staffs approached the Labour government to form military sections without success (Cortwright and Watts 1991). However, with the election of a Conservative government in May 1978 a substantial pay increase was given to both the armed forces and the police service (Thatcher 1993) and the impetus for representation all but disappeared until the mid-1990s. The new debate was opened in a rather curious way. In 1995 Sir Michael Bett published his Independent Review of the Armed Forces’ Manpower, Career
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and Remuneration Structures (Bett 1995). In it he revealed that 66 per cent of servicemen and women were in favour of some form of independent representation outside the chain of command (1995: 64). Though not quite a euphemism for trade union, the intention is clear in that he was referring to some form of collective bargaining and representation that would work outside the usual military command structure. It is immensely significant that this concept should have been re-introduced to the debating arena in an official government document. It is, perhaps, even more significant that Bett went so far as to call for servicemen and women to argue the case for ‘an organisation to represent their collective concerns’ (1995: 66). Much has happened in the ten years since Bett’s call for servicemen to argue the case for independent representation. Major international events such as the end of the Cold War, the Balkan crises, the two Gulf Wars, the terrorist attack on the twin towers of the World Trade Centre and the subsequent ‘War on Terror’ have all had their impact on British Defence Policy and the armed forces. Similarly, changes within British society have had a significant influence on the culture of the armed forces. This chapter will examine some of the factors that have produced changes in the size, structure, role and culture of the British armed forces since the end of the Cold War. The impact of these changes on employment relations within the military will be discussed and the impetus towards the formation of some kind of representative body will be reviewed.
THE MILITARY AND SOCIETY The relationship between the military and society has long been a matter of debate and concern. In essence it was recognised that the military institutions are: … shaped by two forces: a functional imperative stemming from the threats to the society’s security and a societal imperative arising from the social forces, ideologies and institutions dominant within the society. (Huntington 1957) The influence of these two forces on the military is seen as being a reflection of the security needs and the strength of the values of society. Huntington (1957) argued that a balance between the functional and the societal pressures was not inevitable. An imbalance, if one existed, was more likely to be accepted if the threat to security was considered to be great. It could be argued that such a situation existed during the Cold War. Consequently the prevailing attitude was one in which the functional imperative held sway and societal forces were of lesser importance. Since the end of the Cold War, the balance seems to have swung the other way so that with the ‘clear and present danger’ removed the debate now hinges upon the kind of armed forces that are most compatible with the reduced external threat and the dominant societal forces, ideologies and institutions in twenty-first century Britain.
The British armed forces 19 Even at the height of the Cold War it was recognised by the more forward thinkers in this field that the military could not ignore the pressures for change emanating from society at large. In 1983 General Sir John Hackett, respected as both a military leader and an academic, wrote: It has frequently been emphasised … that the pattern of a parental society is faithfully reflected in the military institutions to which it gives birth and that developments in the first are followed sooner or later by corresponding developments in the second. The latter tend to happen of their own accord but they must be carefully watched and when they are seen to be moving in a direction injurious to the military institution they must be restrained and kept under some degree of control [italics added]. (Hackett 1983) He could at that time, of course, argue for restraint and control over these external influences given the magnitude of the threat and the reliance on the military to maintain the security of the nation. Since then, the bi-polar world has been replaced by a multi-polar one in which many players compete for political, economic and military power. So the political situation of the single identifiable threat has been replaced by one of uncertainty and ‘risk complexity’ (Dandeker and Paton 1997). Tension between the super powers has given way to ethnic, religious and nationalist rivalries in many parts of the world resulting in a considerable increase in international terrorism. The consequences for the British armed forces have been role ambiguity and overstretch as they try to operate across a spectrum ranging from humanitarian relief to high intensity warfare. To exacerbate matters, this is taking place in the aftermath of the manpower reductions and amalgamations of Options for Change (King 1990), the setting up of Agencies, the Defence Costs Study (Ministry of Defence 1994), the Bett Report (Bett 1995), and a series of recent debilitating defence reviews. Within this complex scenario, attempts by the military, especially the army, to resist these pressures have had limited success. Indeed, it seems that every aspect of the armed forces seems to have been placed under a microscope and found wanting. From funding to families, race relations to recruiting and from discrimination to discipline, all have come under searching public scrutiny. The result of this inspection and introspection has been a fundamental change in the conceptions of both the military and society of the military organisation. In the last 30 years, the British armed forces have exhibited some of the attributes that indicate a move from what Charles Moskos (1986) would describe as an institution towards becoming an occupation. Whilst some argue that this construct has limited utility ‘as a means for looking into the process of change’ (Caforio 1988) there is, nevertheless, some value in noting the specific changes that have occurred in the British military that has led to growing pressure to form a trade union. Role commitments have become more specific especially in the technical branches and consequently the rewards are more skills based with salary and bonuses replacing non-cash or deferred methods of remuneration. Most married
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personnel now live away from their place of work and their spouses are no longer part of the military community. Even some aspects of the work life are changing. The introduction of modern commercial methods in the creation of ‘Next Steps Agencies’ has increased the shift from institution to occupation. These agencies are half-way houses between public and private sector that are based upon suitable military organisations but run for a profit. In these ‘agencies’ (often run by civilians) servicemen and women work alongside civilians often doing the same or comparable work. The interests of the civilian workers are represented by organisations such as the Public and Commercial Services Union, whilst the serviceman/woman has no such representation (Joyce 1995). Comparisons between co-workers are inevitable, especially as all civilians now have the protection of the law on a number of matters such as minimum wages and working time regulations, but servicemen/women are exempted from this legislation (The Times 1998). It is possible to identify a host of internal and external pressures on the British armed forces to change their institutional culture, but that is beyond the scope of this chapter. Suffice to say that they have learned, from long experience, to deal reasonably well with many of the pressures resulting from political, economic and technological forces. However, there are disturbing trends even in some of these areas – such as the invasiveness and immediacy of the media. But it is the powerful socio-cultural influences which seem to present the greatest threat to the military culture. Many of the societal changes have been to the deep-seated military values that had been in place since the World War II but have been under increasing attack since the 1960s. These values form the core of the military culture and it is these that are under the greatest pressure. Traditionally, the armed forces have lagged behind society and it has been acceptable for them to filter out the least desirable changes in order to defend core military principles and traditions (Dandeker and Paton 1997: 3). In today’s ‘post-deferential society’ (Dandeker and Paton 1997: 1) servicemen and women are more aware of their rights and prepared to resort to the law, if necessary. Boyd-Carpenter summed it up when he said that there has been: a growth in the individual’s sense of their (sic) own autonomy, an ambition to make judgements for themselves, to pursue their own interest and advancement and to be less willing to take accepted norms at face value or even to conform in pursuit of some perceived benefit to society as a whole. (Boyd-Carpenter 1995: 2–3) So, on the one hand, the military is trying to resist the pressures for culture change whilst, on the other, the litigious ‘post-deferential’ soldiery is challenging some of its core values. The armed forces’ defence of these values and their claim to the right to be different lies at the heart of the criticisms presently being levelled at them. The main critics, such as Eric Joyce (1997) argue that the military needs to undergo a fundamental change in order to move forward into the next millennium as an employer capable of attracting and retaining the best recruits. Unfortunately, many of the
The British armed forces 21 changes implemented since the fall of the Berlin Wall seem to have had the opposite effect, leading to poor recruitment and retention, lack of trust and a rising demand for some form of independent representation outside the chain of command.
THE PEACE DIVIDEND Following the end of the Cold War the defence budget of the British armed forces came under severe pressure. Throughout Europe the idea of the ‘peace dividend’ had encouraged cutbacks in defence spending to fund increases in the budgets of other areas such as education and health. Like most NATO countries, Britain chose to make savings by both cutting military equipment projects and reducing the size of the armed forces (Hartley 1997). Downsizing was one of the management catchwords at the beginning of the 1990s and it proved extremely ‘difficult for the military to resist the argument that civilian models of business efficiency [could] be applied with success to the armed forces’ (Dandeker and Paton 1997: 1). In fact, the British Ministry of Defence went about it with a will. In 1990 a new defence policy entitled ‘Options for Change’ was outlined in the House of Commons by the then Secretary of State for Defence Tom King. It envisaged that by the mid-1990s the United Kingdom would have a Regular Army of about 120,000 personnel, Royal Navy/Royal Marines of approximately 60,000 and a Royal Air Force of about 75,000. This meant an overall reduction in manpower of 50,700 (King 1990: 468). Although some of these reductions were taken up by ‘natural wastage’, inevitably there were also mass redundancies. Over 17,000 men and women were made redundant from the Army alone in the period between 1991 and 1994. This first round of redundancies was only the beginning, however. Further initiatives, such as the Defence Costs Studies (Ministry of Defence 1994), meant that by 1999 the overall strength of the British armed forces had been cut by over 97,000 men and women (Ministry of Defence 2000). Although the terms for redundancy were considered to be reasonably generous, the selection of redundees was a secret process that rejected many of those who volunteered and selected other non-volunteers for compulsory redundancy. This was an enormous shock to many in the armed forces who had never had to face the prospect of redundancy before. The general impression until ‘Options for Change’ had been that a serviceman’s psychological contract assumed unlimited personal liability, up to and including the readiness to make the ultimate sacrifice, and in return s/he had the guarantee of job security. One senior officer admitted at the time that this round of redundancies had hit morale and trust very hard (Welch 1997: 22). However, whilst some effort was made to ensure a satisfactory transition to civilian life for those made redundant, little, if any, consideration was given to those remaining. Studies of the effects of downsizing indicate that there is a considerable demoralisation of the ‘survivors’ that manifests itself in withdrawal behaviour that is used to retaliate against the organisation on behalf of the employees who were
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forced to leave (Appelbaum et al. 1999: 456). Doherty and Horsted (1995) described this ‘survivor syndrome’ as being a ‘mixed bag of behaviors [sic] and emotions often exhibited by remaining employees following an organizational downsizing’. The problem seems to be that rather than sharing the management’s fervour for the downsizing process, many of those selected to remain (seen as crucial to the organisation) become so demoralised by the process that they leave the organisation (Davies 1995). Arguably, this seems to have been the case in the British armed forces following the rounds of redundancies in the 1990s. The Army seems to have been most affected by this ‘survivor syndrome’. As well as having severe recruiting problems since the mid-1990s, the Army has faced a massive haemorrhaging of trained servicemen and women. At the turn of the century this meant a net monthly outflow of 100 personnel from the Army which was by this time undermanned by as many as 15,000 officers and other ranks (Strachan 2000). The latest figures (Ministry of Defence 2004a) show that none of the three services have achieved their manpower targets. This may change, but not in terms of increased recruitment. The 2003 Defence White Paper (Ministry of Defence 2003a) set out the future for the armed forces and the subsequent Defence Command Paper (Ministry of Defence 2004b) outlined more reductions in manpower. Military personnel levels will drop by 10,000 from 195,000 to 185,000. In particular, the Army, which is widely recognised as being severely overstretched (Garden and Ramsbotham 2004) will be reduced by 1,000 men and women. As well as a list of long-standing commitments that includes Cyprus, Northern Ireland and the Falkland Islands, newer tasks in the former Yugoslavia, Afghanistan and Iraq (to mention only the major deployments) increase the overstretch on personnel whilst unplanned requirements at home and abroad (such as flood relief, the fireman’s strike and the international effort following the tsunami) add to the strain. As two eminent military thinkers put it: If this degree of unremitting pressure is maintained, it is bound to have an effect on retention. That, in turn, is bound to have a longer-term effect on the levels of experience, and therefore operational capability. (Garden and Ramsbotham 2004) Thus the continuing reductions in manpower combined with the unremitting pressures of overstretch are having a deleterious effect on the British armed forces. But, there have also been some major changes in working practices that have impacted on employment relations.
THE BREAKDOWN OF TRUST There is now a substantial body of research (Young 1996; Jenkins 1998; Bartle 1998, 1999a, b; Hill 2000; Hall 2002) showing that a large majority of servicemen and women in all three services want to have more say in matters affecting their terms and conditions of service. Eric Joyce (1997) would argue that this is a new
The British armed forces 23 problem caused by junior and middle ranks no longer trusting their senior officers to represent them as they have traditionally done. Trust is at the heart of employment relations. For some ‘it is trust more than either power or hierarchy that really makes an organization function effectively’ (Barnes 1981). Yet it can be a double-edged sword, for just as trust can have a positive effect on the organisation, the lack of trust, or worse the loss of trust, can have a corrosive effect on employment relations. Handy (1997: 190–3) likens trust to glass ‘once it is broken it can never be the same’. In addition he says that ‘organisations who expect people to trust them must first demonstrate that they are trustworthy’. This could be said to be applicable to both the written contract between employer and employee and the psychological contract. The term ‘psychological contract’ is used to describe the kind of employment relationship and the tacit agreements that people believe they have regarding the commitments made between themselves and the organisation (Argyris 1960; Levinson et al. 1962). According to Levinson et al. (1962) a psychological contract implies a series of mutual expectations, obligations and trust between employer and employee and the ensuing satisfaction of the needs of the employment relationship. However, it is not a contract in the legal sense as it is both unwritten and subjective and thus not defined in any formal way. Nevertheless, it plays a crucial role in securing the commitment, satisfaction and motivation of the workforce that is vital in today’s changing world (Guest and Conway 1997). Trust is essential to the maintenance of the psychological contract (IPD 1997). The British armed forces are a collection of unique organisations that are particularly reliant upon mutual trust. This translates into a set of values that have been described as a total open-ended commitment, subordination of the self to the group and the idea of sacrifice of selfish interest, even a willingness to risk losing one’s life (Turner 1997). Because military law prevents servicemen and women from striking or negotiating over working conditions, in return for this open-ended commitment is the expectation of a paternalistic system in which pay, terms and conditions of service, accommodation and even food and clothing are guaranteed and protected by the service hierarchy. However, this arrangement is unwritten and subjective based upon the expectations of both parties and founded upon mutual trust that each would honour their commitment – in other words, a psychological contract. One very strong indicator that trust in this complex psychological contract is breaking down in the military would be a demand for an organisation outside the chain of command to represent the concerns of service personnel at the highest level. It was Sir Michael Bett (1995) who first observed such a demand; it was, arguably, Eric Joyce who brought the debate into the public arena. His, now infamous, Fabian Society paper (1997) was responsible for highlighting the breakdown of trust, as was his earlier (less well known) article in December 1995 for the British Army Review entitled ‘Tradition and Representation’ which debated Bett’s observations. Joyce’s views were personal and anecdotal but they were supported by a number of separate pieces of research that found both a lack of trust in senior officers and around 70 per cent support for independent representation
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across all three services (Young 1996; Jenkins 1998; Bartle 1998, 1999a; Hill 2000; Hall 2002). Joyce (1997) identified the New Management Strategy (NMS) introduced in 1992 as being a prime mover in the breakdown of trust between senior officers and their subordinates. At its introduction, NMS was claimed to be ‘the most far reaching overhaul ever undertaken of defence management’ in that it left virtually no part of the defence establishment untouched. (Bell 1992: 23). Under the old budgetary system senior officers at least appeared to be battling for the best interests of their subordinates as they negotiated within MoD for their annual share of the defence budget, the spending of which was strictly controlled by an annual vote in Parliament and managed by civil servants in the MoD. Now, under the New Management Strategy, senior officers themselves manage budgets that have fewer restrictions than previously. Consequently, they can make local decisions on the allocation of their budgets in areas such as accommodation, working life, training, travel, food and even job design. Thus in place of standard conditions of service dictated from MoD, a situation now exists in which there can be differences in the quality of life for lower ranks depending upon decisions made by local budget managers (i.e. senior officers) (Joyce 1995, 1997). Those affected by these decisions are prevented by Queen’s Regulations for the Army (1995: J12.003) from expressing their views on these matters in public. Nor do they have a forum within the armed forces for making their views known. This means, argues Joyce (1997) that senior officers are able to suppress internal comment whilst making sweeping changes to subordinate terms and conditions of service. As a result, he complains, ‘whilst senior officers are able to look after their own interests in peacetime, they have not extended this power to their subordinates’ (1997: 18). Joyce concludes that if local commanders are to be allowed to make decisions about expenditure that affect servicemen and women under their command, then their subordinates ought to be provided with the means of expressing their professional and personal views on these matters (1997: 20). Any residual trust and morale has been seriously tried by a growing divergence in the relationship between the expectations of the employees and the offerings of the employer. The MoD has ‘a poor record in the field of employment welfare’ (Strachan 2000) and this has strengthened the perception that senior officers can no longer be trusted to represent servicemen/women. Serving in the armed forces is a dangerous occupation and many members sustain injuries or contract illnesses through the execution of their duty. Some basic medical cover is available in Commands, but the closure of the last military hospital has meant that servicemen and women are now reliant, in the main, upon the National Health Service which often has lengthy waiting lists. Additionally, there have been a number of health related cases during the last ten years including the Gulf War Syndrome (BBC 2004), compensation for injuries in Bosnia (The Daily Telegraph 1999) and the Depleted Uranium scare (Norton-Taylor 2001). Some of these have resulted in claims being made against the MoD for illnesses and injuries sustained through active service. Whilst there is no doubt that the MoD does take care of those sick or injured in the line of duty, the system for investigating complicated claims for compensation is open to criticism.
The British armed forces 25 The MoD can no longer rely on Crown Immunity to protect it from litigation and so it may have to shoulder responsibility for illness and injury suffered in places such as the Gulf, Bosnia and Sierra Leone (Lewis 2001). It does have inhouse mechanisms to investigate claims for injuries and illness but the slowness in reaching satisfactory conclusions has led many to seek independent medical advice and assistance. Sufferers from Gulf War Syndrome, for example, have sought medical advice from specialists in America and Canada (NGVFA 2002). This has been at their own expense, or with help from pressure groups such as the National Gulf Veterans and Families Association. For the remainder, there is no official organisation to help them to obtain independent medical advice or to assist them in making claims against the MoD. The conclusion, according to Joyce (1997) is that independent representation outside the chain of command is needed to redress the balance. This is reinforced by research (Bartle 1998) showing that armed forces personnel want to have more say in policies on such matters as pay, allowances, career development, single soldiers accommodation, married quarters and postings and that they favour some form of independent representation to achieve this. In other words, in the absence of anyone else to look after their interests, they feel the need to take matters into their own hands and look after themselves. In this they have been assisted by what Dandeker calls ‘the intrusion of civilian law and the scrutiny of civilian courts into the affairs of the armed forces’ (Dandeker and Paton 1997). Indeed, in recent times both the EC and the European Court of Human Rights have been instrumental in influencing the day-to-day running of the British armed forces. To date there have been nearly 40 EC directives incorporated into UK law. Because of the concept of ‘citizens in uniform’ these have been accepted by other EC states as being applicable to all members of society, including the armed forces. In the UK this has not been the case. A few, relating to health and safety at work, have been universally applied. Some others, such as the rights of homosexuals and pregnant women in the armed forces, have been enforced by law. But, the armed forces have been exempted from many, including minimum wage legislation (McManners and Prescott 1998; The Times 1998) and, of course, the right to form trade unions. However, some observers consider that it is only a matter of time before these rights become the norm throughout the EC, including the UK (Dandeker and Paton 1997). This would force a change in the current political culture in the UK, pushing it away from its present insular form to one more akin to its continental neighbours in the EC. Nevertheless, at present the demand for independent representation and consultation at the highest level remains unanswered.
REPRESENTATION AND CONSULTATION Currently, representation in the British armed forces is based upon the chain of command. It relies upon officers passing information upwards and representing the needs of their subordinates to senior officers. This is only half of the picture, though. Officers are the main channels of organisational communication and, as
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well as communicating their subordinates’ requirements upwards, also have the responsibility of communicating the policies of the government down to the servicemen and women. Even when the policy seems unfair or unreasonable an officer is required to represent the government’s policy to his/her men and women with complete loyalty (Glaister 1978). It could be, therefore, that the officer’s concern for the welfare and morale of service personnel may well conflict with loyalty to the overall policy of the armed forces. Further strain exists in this situation in that the pressures to conform are also intimately connected to the system of promotion. Although not quite reliant upon patronage, the confidential report system, and through it the promotion system, are based upon the perceptions of an officer’s superior of his subordinate’s suitability for promotion. Officers who disturb the status quo by representing more than the usual number of grievances on behalf of soldiers under their command may well jeopardise their chances of promotion. Thus, at an individual level, the system has within it in-built strains that work against effective representation upwards whilst still ensuring reliable downward communication of government policies. Representation at national level also has its problems. There is only one official organisation involved in representing the interests of servicemen and women – the Armed Forces Pay Review Body (AFPRB). This is an independent voluntary body that was established in 1972 to give advice on pay and allowances for all three services. Of its eight members, only one is serving in the armed forces (presently Vice-Admiral Sir Peter Woodhead) (AFPRB 2004). Their remit is to ensure comparability between service and civilian pay, whilst balancing the need to recruit and retain the right calibre of people against government expenditure limits. To that end they take evidence each year from MoD, the services and other interested parties. As part of their research they visit servicemen and women to talk to them directly about pay and conditions. Last year they consulted 3,000 Service personnel and their spouses (AFPRB 2004). This is approximately 1.5 per cent (Ministry of Defence 2004a) of the service population. In addition, each service has some form of continuous attitude survey, but there is no evidence in the public domain to show that these have any influence on the Pay Review Body, or that they do any more than to register trends in attitudes. So, as far as the rank and file is concerned, they have no means by which their collective views can be represented to the Pay Review Body or for that matter, to the government. Two other examples of this state of affairs serve to further highlight the lack of representation for and the paucity of consultation with servicemen and women on matters of considerable importance to their working lives. In 1997 the government began an examination of the armed forces pension scheme (Ministry of Defence 2003b). As part of this review it undertook a public consultation exercise in 2001 involving serving members of all three services and ex-Service organisations such as the Forces Pension Society and the British Legion. There being no representative body for servicemen and women, the MoD sent out 1,500 copies of their consultation document to units of the three
The British armed forces 27 services and a further 20,000 summary leaflets for distribution. So, the process involved sending out enough consultation documents for 0.75 per cent of serving personnel, and sufficient summary documents for a further 10 per cent as well as having discussions with some ex-Service organisations. The ‘consultation’ exercise produced 143 responses from serving officers and other ranks and ‘as far as judged reasonable their views have been taken into account’ (Ministry of Defence 2003b). The final structure of the scheme, however, only involved consultation with Service staffs and representatives from the ex-Service community. Reading between the lines of ‘The Report of the Consultation Process’ (Ministry of Defence 2003b), the MoD seems quite pleased with this process. It could, of course, argue that the proposed new pensions scheme was so uncontroversial that it received only a handful of comments from serving personnel. On the other hand, it could be argued that the issuing of leaflets was not a consultation process at all and that whilst the ex-Service organisations did have an opportunity to take part in genuine discussions serving members of the armed forces had no collective part in the process. A further example of the lack of representation and the failure of the chain of command, but, arguably even more significant, was the apparent disregard of serious disquiet amongst large numbers of the rank and file about their equipment (or lack of it) during the second Gulf War. The end of conventional fighting in Iraq resulted in substantial media criticism of the government over shortages and deficiencies in soldiers’ personal equipment (see: Wilson 2003; Norton-Taylor 2003). As part of their investigation into the lessons to be learnt from the war, the House of Commons Defence Committee (HCDC) examined the provision of desert clothing, boots, body armour and NBC protection. It censured the MoD for not recognising that there was a problem ‘which had a detrimental impact on service personnel’ (House of Commons Defence Committee 2004: 18). The Defence Committee was even more concerned that servicemen and women had been trying to point out these problems, but their views had been ignored. Consequently, it went on to say: Robust arrangements should now be introduced to gauge the views of more junior ranks and specialists whose widespread concerns do not seem to be properly understood, reflected and acted upon by more senior commanders and officials further up the chain. (House of Commons Defence Committee 2004: 18.64) This was a clear indictment of the chain of command as a means of communicating upwards the concerns of lower ranking servicemen and women. Furthermore, the call for ‘robust arrangements’ to be introduced seems to underpin the case for some form of independent representation outside the chain of command. Exactly what that might entail is still open to debate, but there is some strong evidence to show that a large percentage of servicemen and women are in favour of an organisation similar to the Police Federation as their representative body (Young 1996; Bartle 1999a,b; Hill 2000; Hall 2002).
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REPRESENTATION BY A FEDERATION The problems of representation through the military chain of command have already been discussed. However, in Britain, the differences between the armed services and the police are quite marked, especially in decisions on pay and conditions of service. The British Police Force has had a representative body – The Police Federation – since 1919 (Police Federation 2005). At a national level, it has developed a system of collective representation by which it is able to put forward the views of its members on issues such as pay and conditions of service. The statutory body for negotiating police pay and terms of conditions is the Police Negotiating Board (PNB) which has a mandate to: … negotiate the hours of duty; leave; pay and allowances; the issue, use and return of police clothing, personal equipment and accoutrements; and pensions of United Kingdom police officers, and to make recommendations to the Home Secretary, Secretary of State for Northern Ireland and Scottish Ministers on these matters. (The Home Office 2005) The two negotiating sides to the PNB consist of one representing the police authorities and the other representing all ranks of the police service through their respective Police Federations, Superintendents’ Associations and Chief Police Officers’ Staff Associations. Generally, agreements are reached by a majority of both sides accepting a proposal which they then recommend to the Home Secretary. There is an arbitration system in the event of a failure to agree within the PNB and the subsequent awards are binding on both sides. If the Home Secretary accepts the recommendations, they are placed within a draft statutory instrument (Police Regulations) and put to Parliament for approval. PNB agreements once placed in regulations are legally binding. The disparities between the Armed Forces Pay Review system and the Police Negotiating Board are obvious. In the former, no collective negotiation is allowed and the recommendations are made by a non-representative body, whereas in the latter, police representatives from all ranks are an integral part of the statutory negotiating body that frames the recommendations. Similar differences exist between the police and the armed forces with regard to representation in other Human Resource Management issues. Whereas servicemen and women receive little help with legal, disciplinary and medical problems, the Police Federation provides support and representation for the individual problems of its members in these areas and will, if necessary, raise them at the highest level. A Forces Federation could provide similar services which would benefit not only servicemen and women but also, perhaps, even the MoD. In most legal situations affecting serving personnel they have no recourse to the kind of assistance that is available to members of the Police Federation. Indeed, whilst a few servicemen and women in need of legal assistance may receive help from pressure groups with a specific agenda, the majority have to seek legal
The British armed forces 29 advice independently, often having to spend their own savings in order to defend themselves or to pursue claims. One example of the growing need for legal help from a representative body can be found in a little publicised aspect of the European Convention on Human Rights. Unlike many European countries, Britain has not asked for its armed forces to be exempt from the convention. As a result, it has been argued that it might be possible for officers and NCOs to be sued by other members of the armed forces over orders they have given (Bamber 2000). The British government has been noncommittal about their responsibilities to help in the defence of servicemen and women who might be sued by others in the armed forces. It would therefore seem likely that people issuing legitimate orders could be without any legal assistance if they are sued as a result and may well find themselves responsible for funding their own defence (Bamber 2000). This problem highlights the need for an organisation that can provide legal assistance for officers and other ranks, something a federation would do. Assistance is also needed at a lower level. The police, like the military, are subject to rules and are sometimes disciplined for breaking these rules. Minor transgressions of these rules are dealt with internally in both forces. Police officers have the benefit of a Federation representative (if they should choose to have one) at any disciplinary hearing. Most disciplinary cases in the military, however, are dealt with, in the first instance, by the Commanding Officer who has summary powers. He/she can impose fines and even imprisonment upon those found to be guilty, but unlike the police, the accused does not have the right to representation nor is there an organisation that could provide such help. A federation would redress the balance both here and in other areas of concern. Personnel in the armed forces and the police are daily at risk of injury or worse. The MoD’s in-house system for investigating claims for injuries and illness is renowned for its slowness in reaching satisfactory conclusions (Lee 2001). Unfortunately, for most serving men and women no organisation exists through which they can obtain independent medical advice and assistance to help them in making claims against the MoD. In contrast, the Police Federation has a very good system that provides money and medical examinations to support similar claims against the Police authorities. The advantages to servicemen and women of a similar scheme are obvious, but there are also possible advantages to the MoD. As well as filtering out frivolous claims, a reputable professional organisation would also be able to consolidate claims of a similar nature. Thus, the MoD would have a single point of contact and also know that the claims had already been vetted and considered to be worth pursuing. Indeed, a federation could be seen as a force for partnership, rather than a focus for conflict. Inevitably there will be scepticism about any calls for independent representation in the armed forces. Whenever military unions are mentioned the old stories about Dutch troops wearing hairnets and not saluting are re-aired (Cortwright and Watts 1991: 107). Yet, other more acceptable examples are conveniently forgotten. The German Army has had union representation for a long time yet few would deny that it is an efficient and effective military organisation. What seems
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to be the problem as far as the military hierarchy is concerned is their lack of trust in servicemen and women to work for, rather than against, the organisation. They appear to see representation as a civilian employment practice that is ‘entirely inappropriate for soldiers on the battlefield’ (McManners and Prescott 1998). Yet it is possible for satisfactory partnerships to develop between employer and employees. For some years now the TUC has been working with industry to develop partnerships and this has resulted in its setting up a new organisation called the Partnership Institute (TUC Online 2005). Its rationale is that: … partnership is the most effective approach to improve the working lives of trade union members and an essential element in any strategy to improve organisational performance. Partnership is rooted in the notion that mutual gains are possible even though unions and employers will inevitably have differences of interest from time to time. (TUC Online 2005) For such a partnership to develop there must exist a high level of trust between all participants. The TUC partnership scheme is based upon such trust – that it is in the interests of both the employers and the employees for the organisation to succeed. Most armed forces representative bodies seem to be based upon a similar level of trust. The Armed Forces Federation of Australia is one example. They came into existence in 1984 and have the full blessing of the hierarchy. The Chief of the Defence Force, Admiral Alan Beaumont, feels that ‘The Federation’s aim of protecting and promoting the welfare of its members is consistent with my objectives and those of the Chiefs of Staff’ (Avery 1994). Given the relatively low pay, it seems unlikely that people join the armed forces predominantly for money. Whatever their motives they are asked to be prepared to make the ultimate sacrifice. They are trusted with the arms and weapons that they need to defend the state. It does not seem logical that they cannot also be trusted to organise in such a way as to protect and promote their own welfare. Ironically, the homosexual lobby group ‘Rank Outsiders’ appear to have the trust of the MoD to promote a welfare and support network for gay and lesbian members of the armed forces. According to their vice-chairman they also have access to the highest levels within the MoD to represent their members (Langley 2001). More paradoxically, in 2001, when BBC Radio Five wanted a representative from the ranks to talk about depleted uranium and lacking any alternative point of contact with other ranks, they asked Rank Outsiders to provide a spokesman (BBC 2001). The point being, that if the MoD can trust a pressure group representing a small minority of service personnel to act responsibly enough for them to have free access to both the media and the MoD hierarchy then they should be able to trust all their service personnel to behave just as sensibly. A partnership between the MoD and a Forces Federation could be a powerful force for initiating and managing change in the military.
The British armed forces 31 CONCLUSIONS In 1995 Bett (1995) called for a debate on independent representation and it was met with a limited response. Nearly ten years later the House of Commons Defence Committee has called for ‘robust arrangements … to gauge the views of more junior ranks and specialists’ (HSDC 2004: 18.64) yet this also seems to have fallen on deaf ears. It remains to be seen what effect the new Constitution for Europe will have. The opinion in the MoD seems to be that it will take a test case to establish whether the human rights convention can be applied to the British Army (Clark 2002). What seems to be needed is a catalyst to spark off more insistent demands for the introduction of independent representation. Maybe it will take an accumulation of events like the death of Sgt. Roberts (who was ordered to give his body armour to someone else and was then shot) (Elliott and Sengupta 2004); a pay cut for soldiers whilst senior officers keep their right to first class rail travel (Rayment 2004) and the large redundancies in the armed forces said to be in the pipeline despite record deployments around the world (Evans 2004). It has been said that there is already in existence an unofficial military union called ‘The Colours’ with up to 2,000 members (Clark 2002). Perhaps this organisation (if it does exist) will use these events to provide a new impetus. However, unless someone takes the initiative, the foundation of an Army Federation will remain just as elusive as ever.
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The British armed forces 33 House of Commons Defence Committee (2004) Lessons of Iraq, Third Report of Session 2003–2004. Volume 1: Report. HC 57–1. London: The Stationery Office Ltd. Huntington, S. P. (1957) The Soldier and The State, Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. IPD (1997) Employment Relations in the 21st Century: An IPD Position Paper. London: Institute of Personnel and Development. Jenkins, I. P. (1998) Unionisation within the Military – An Anachronism or a Necessity? Unpublished Defence Research Paper. Advanced Command and Staff Course No. 1. Joyce, E. S. (1995) ‘Tradition and representation’, British Army Review, No. 111, December. ——— (1997) ‘Arms and the man – Renewing the armed services’, Fabian Society, August. Judd, D. (1996) Empire: The British Imperial Experience, London: Fontana. King, T. (1990) ‘Defence (Options for Change)’, in Hansard, 25 July: clm. 468–86. Langley, S. (2001) Author’s interview with Simon Langley, Vice Chair Rank Outsiders, 23 January. Lee, D. (2001) ‘Battle only the MoD wins’, The Times, 23 January. Levinson, H., Price, C. R., Munden, K. J. and Solley, C. M. (1962) Men, Management and Mental Health. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Lewis, P. (2001) ‘A dangerous line of work’, The Independent, 20 February. McManners, H. and Prescott, M. (1998) ‘Robertson wins battle to deny troops minimum wage’, The Sunday Times, 11 January. Ministry of Defence (1994) Defence Cost Studies (Front Line First). London: MoD. ——— (2000) UK Defence Statistics, 1992–1999. London: TSO. ——— (2003a) Delivering Security in a Changing World. Defence White Paper, HMSO. Available HTTP: (Accessed 17 Nov. 2004). ——— (2003b) New Armed Forces Pension Scheme: Report on Consultation Process. Available HTTP: (Accessed 27 Jan. 2005). ——— (2004a) ‘Full time trained strengths and requirements’, TSP 04 – Quarterly Press Release. Defence Analytical Services Agency. Available HTTP: (Accessed 11 Nov. 2004). ——— (2004b) Delivering Security in a Changing World. Future Capabilities. HMSO: Cm 6269. Available HTTP: (Accessed 17 Nov. 2004). Moskos, C. C. (1986) ‘Institutional/Occupational trends in armed forces: an update’, Armed Forces and Society, Vol. 12, No. 3, Spring: 377–82. NGVFA (2002) Healthboards. National and Gulf Veterans and Families Association. Available HTTP: (Accessed 15 March 2003). Norton-Taylor, R. (2003) ‘Gulf Troops put at risk by failures: Watchdog says vital equipment missing’, The Guardian, 12 December: 1. Norton-Taylor, R. and Radford, T. (2001) ‘Study plays down fears over Gulf weapons’, The Guardian, 23 May. Police Federation (2005) ‘The Police Federation of England and Wales – History’. Available HTTP: (Accessed 15 March 2005). Queen’s Regulations for the Army (Revised 1995). London: HMSO. Rayment, S. (2004) ‘Forces face pay cut but senior officers refuse to surrender rail perk’, The Sunday Telegraph, 25 April.
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Richey, G. (1978) ‘Angry soldiers: a matter of money, but not just money’, The Daily Telegraph, Monday, 22 May. Strachan, H. (ed.) (2000) The British Army, Manpower and Society into the Twenty First Century. London: Frank Cass: xxii. Thatcher, M. (1993) The Downing Street Years. London: Harper Collins. The Daily Telegraph (1999) ‘Amputee soldier loses payout plea’, 14 February. The Home Office (2005) ‘The Police Negotiating Board’. Available HTTP: (Accessed 15 March 2005). The Times (1998) ‘Forces exempted from low pay law’, 4 February. TUC Online (2005) ‘Partnership in depth’. Available HTTP: (Accessed 17 March 2005) Turner, P. D. J. (1997) ‘Military ethic as it applies to the Royal Air Force’. Internal RAF Paper: PMA/110004/26/Air Sec, October. Welch, J. (1997) ‘New model army’, People Management, 4 December: 22. Wilson, J. (2003) ‘MoD admits shortage of desert equipment’, The Guardian, 8 July: 10. Young, M. A. (1996) Does the Army Need a Union? Unpublished MDA Dissertation, Cranfield University at RMCS.
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The Italian armed forces Towards a new need for representation Eraldo Olivetta
INTRODUCTION As with most Western nations, the Italian armed forces have been subject to ongoing reforms since the end of the Cold War. The gradual disappearance of a direct threat to its national security and the engagement in new types of missions requiring inter-force projection and intervention capabilities for the resolution of international crises have played a significant role in the transformation of Italy’s armed forces. At the very beginning of the 1990s, in concomitance with the early operations abroad, the conscript-volunteer model began to take hold in Italy. The early operations in Somalia and Mozambique (where a considerable number of draftees had taken part after volunteering to engage in foreign tours) highlighted the need to have a highly specialised, rapid-response professional military force, specially trained for these types of missions. In 1995,1 the first outline for a mixed conscript-volunteer system was compiled. This sparked a process of radical transformation, which ultimately aimed at reaching a force structure (by 2006) of 55,000 Troop Volunteers (25,000 recruited for the permanent force and 30,000 on a short-term contract of three years) and approximately 100,000 servicemen and women on compulsory draft service. The growing number of international operations (Kosovo, East Timor and Albania) has led to a requirement for increased recruitment, in order to have a larger contingent of military professionals to deploy on these missions. To attract members to join on a voluntary basis, the 1994 Defence Budget introduced, for the first time, recruitment incentives for volunteer personnel. For example, before 1994, access to the Police Forces was possible only by public competition. Today, volunteer personnel who have completed their service can join the Police Force more easily.2 This was based on the strong belief that more young people would volunteer for the Army, with the intention of transferring to the Police Force at a later stage. Other factors influencing the need to shift to a volunteer force was a decline in the number of recruits because of a reduction in the draft time period from 12 to 10 months, together with a growing number of conscientious objectors. This reduced the Army total force from about 190,000 men in the early 1990s, to a volunteer force of about 112,000. The sum of all these factors sparked a process
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of organisational restructuring. Starting with recruitment, the objective was to create a force which could adapt to the changing needs of the new security environment, but at the same time take into consideration the needs of society of which it formed an integral part.
ORGANISATIONAL AND FORCE RESTRUCTURING In order to grasp the impact of organisational change on military employment, it is necessary to outline briefly those aspects of ‘change’ that have affected personnel and their need for representation. The reorganisation process of the Italian armed forces began with the changeover from a recruitment system based on compulsory conscription to that of a mixed system based on volunteers and conscripts. (Nuciari and Sertorio 2003). From this followed two events: first the downscaling of the forces and second the progressive move towards a volunteer force consisting entirely of military professionals. In 1986, the Italian government had begun to restructure the Italian armed forces (Ministry of Defence 2002: 49) to enable it to carry out a range of tasks. By 2000, such tasks were redefined by law3 and included the primary task of ‘Defence of the State’, as well as the task of ‘operating for the purpose of achieving peace and security in compliance with the rules of international law and with the international organisations, such as NATO, to which Italy belongs’ (Ministry of Defence 2002: 49). Further tasks included ‘safeguarding the free institutions’ alongside those required in ‘the specific circumstances of public disasters and in other cases, of extraordinary need and urgency’. This broadening of mission focus, alongside the traditional role of defence of the sovereignty of the state and national borders, has entailed the need to ‘transform the configuration of the Italian armed forces from a static, to a more outwardly projective dynamic organisation, more capable of responding to crises at short notice (Ministry of Defence, Minister’s Cabinet, Public Information Service 2003). The reorganisation process of the Italian armed forces stemming from the changed operational context and to the subsequent changes in their mission forces, encompassed reform on four levels: • • • •
Reform of the top command layers. Reform of personnel structures. The organisational reform of operational units. Downscaling of the technical-administrative and technical logistics support branches.
These reforms had a direct impact on the attitudes of military personnel and job satisfaction because of the negative effect of organisational restructuring on the number of posts. The subsequent reorganisation of territorial boundaries and the elimination of the overlapping/duplication of jurisdictions cut the structures of command and administrative-logistics support.
The Italian armed forces 37 Many of the tasks carried out by the General Defence Staff were also being carried out by the General Staff of the Armed Forces (Ministry of Defence 2002: 62). So the reforms began at the top in pursuit of greater harmonisation and inter-force cooperation, jointness and centralisation. In all, it was envisaged that there would be a cut from the 270,000 in 1999 to 190,000 in 2005 – a reduction of 80,000 employees. This was achieved by 1 January 2005 when the total number of military personnel in the Army was 112,000: Navy 34,000 and Air Force 44,000 (making the required total of 190,000). The rightsizing of staff numbers in the armed forces is taking place through recruitment reform and the reorganisation of single personnel categories (Officers, NCOs and Military Troops). As far as recruitment is concerned, the already cited system of conscripts-volunteers, which was in place in Italy at the beginning of the 1970s, is now disappearing, to leave in its place a system consisting exclusively of volunteers.4 There is a need of about 80,000 specific term volunteers to replace the conscripts. However, while there is a shortage of personnel in the term volunteer category, there is an oversupply of officers and NCOs. Therefore, the Marescialli (warrant officers) are set to face a reduction of about 40,000 (Ministry of Defence 2002: 239) which is similar to the cuts made to the top echelons in 1997. As regards the rest of the forces, especially some categories such as officers, it has become evident that there is a need to readjust human resource levels across the different services in order to enhance inter-service cooperation. The optimisation of resources has also been pursued by increasing expenditure efficiency, as well as by restructuring central and local agencies, resulting in a subsequent resizing of operational units. For all practical purposes, the reorganisation of the Italian armed forces since the 1990s has witnessed an obvious cut in quantity, in exchange for an increase in the quality of voluntary recruits.
Civilian defence personnel and the ‘civilianisation’ of posts The civilian component of the Italian armed forces, which fulfils primarily administrative and technical functions, has also been affected by change. In 1997, the pre-existing Direzioni Generali degli Impiegati e degli Operai (General Management of Employees and Workers) was abolished and replaced by the Direzione Generale per il Personale Civile (General Management for Civilian Personnel). Like the military component, civilian personnel have been reduced in number. In 1985 there were approximately 53,000 (Ministry of Defence 2002: 403), including permanent staff in management and executive positions. Since August 2005 the civilian component has been reduced to around 43,000 personnel.5 Nevertheless, an oversupply of personnel exists in the lower echelons and a shortage in the middle to high-level management. Unlike military personnel, these shortfalls could be rectified by means of external recruitment. However, Law No. 331/2000 governing the institution of professional military service, states that this shortfall must, wherever possible, be met through the redeployment of supernumerary military personnel. Alternatively, the problem could be rectified by training existing members to fill these vacant posts through a process
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provided for in the Contratto Collettivo Nazionale del Lavoro6 (National Collective Labour Contract) which makes provision for the training of existing personnel to fill professional posts. The reorganisation of civilian staff, moreover, must also tackle the problem of below optimum distribution across the country, where some areas are overstaffed, while others are below strength. The implementation of transfer policies, while feasible, has much greater limitations than military personnel, given the repercussions for civilian staff with well-established families, relationships, housing and income (Ministry of Defence 2002: 407). This rationalisation of civilian personnel, like that of military staff, does not only concern the question of size, but also affects positions and areas of responsibility. Given that the military priority is the operational engagement of volunteer troops, other tasks such as administration and logistics are gradually being assigned to civilian personnel. So, despite being subject to rightsizing, the role of civilian personnel is scheduled to be of increasing importance at all organisational levels.
Outsourcing of military tasks As with civilianisation, the shift to an all volunteer force has also been associated with another trend, that of outsourcing a range of tasks previously performed by military personnel, primarily conscripts. Some of the tasks, which have little appeal to military personnel, such as cleaning and catering, have been outsourced to civilian contractors. Sometimes outsourcing has not been limited to peripheral tasks, but also to other professional functions where the armed forces have experienced a shortage of skills. Typical examples include the outsourcing of computer technical services, engineering services and various other consultancies. However, while outsourcing is seen as a management strategy, aimed at improving both the efficiency and cost effectiveness of the Italian armed forces, as more and more tasks are civilianised and outsourced, this inevitably impacts on the culture of the military.
IMPACT ON MILITARY EMPLOYMENT Clearly, as the number of posts in support, logistics and certain professional sectors are reduced, civilianisation and outsourcing will impact on the internal vertical mobility and career advancement of military personnel. However, it will also relieve military personnel from routine tasks, facilitating their employment in more professional positions. In addition, the shortfall in civilian middle management positions has created the possibility of transferring many of the supernumerary warrant officers and officers created by the cuts in military posts. A number of questions may rightfully be asked about the reaction of military personnel to these changes, all of which impact either directly or indirectly on their career paths and prospects: What are their doubts and misgivings? Is there any difference between the soldiers’ perception of their role now and in the future? What are the issues they put forward? What effect is this having on their need for representation?
The Italian armed forces 39 An investigation conducted by the Chamber of Deputies Defence Commission in 2002 into the conditions of service of military personnel indicates that there is a rising level of discontent among military personnel pertaining to their conditions of service. This has been substantiated by a recent analysis of various publications, speeches and letters by military personnel, carried out by the author. From this it emerged that there is a need to focus attention on the deeper and generalised state of discontent experienced by military personnel, the impact this has on motivation and, ultimately the impact this has on military effectiveness (Ministry of Defence 2002: 237). The need to focus attention on issues pertaining to the conditions of personnel, in other words, the human factor, is important not only because this must go hand-in-hand with the process of reform, but also in order to avoid disorientation and lack of motivation. Judging from the information available, the most recurrent reasons for dissatisfaction, include: • • •
pay and conditions of service; a shortage of resources and shortcomings in logistic support; and the system of career paths and progression.
Pay and conditions are undoubtedly the most frequently cited causes of dissatisfaction. The dissatisfaction of military members with pay, working conditions and pensions has a number of underlying causes. The first arises from a general comparison of their conditions of employment with the civilian labour market. Second is the disparity in conditions of service between personnel working for the armed forces and those employed by the Police Force. A third point of discontent is the difference in pay and conditions of service of Italian military personnel compared to their European counterparts. As Italian soldiers are increasingly deployed on international missions, so they become more aware of the service conditions and benefits of their colleagues from other countries. Next to pay, the biggest source of discontent concerns the availability of resources, which are sometimes inadequate. Another area of discontent concerns the impact of frequent deployments on family life. This has a particular effect on married couples with families (which play a fundamental though often ‘hidden’ role in the life of the volunteer soldier) who suffer from the lack of assistance in accommodating the impact of transfers and deployment on family stability and relations. Associated with this is the perceived lack of support in terms of housing, nurseries, medical facilities and employment opportunities for spouses. The other main area of dissatisfaction concerns the impact of change on the career prospects of military personnel. Many feel that the military leadership needs to plan the career paths of individuals more effectively, to avoid overcrowding in various positions and levels in the hierarchy. The feeling also exists that more effort needs to be made to retrain military personnel for alternative employment should their contracts be terminated. Other concerns are about the career progression of members and relate to criteria for promotion and merit assessment. Finally, an overall issue, which appears many times in public statements and
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papers coming from the representative bodies, is a call for a higher efficiency in the work of the military institution as a whole. Much of the discontent and dissatisfaction with pay and conditions of service, logistics support and career progression is the result of ongoing process of reorganisation and rationalisation of the Italian armed forces. This points to the need for more attention to be paid to personnel issues. The changeover to an entirely professional model has meant that new incentives have to be found to induce volunteers to join (and remain) in the armed forces. Even though Italy has a fairly high level of unemployment among its youth, it struggles to meet recruitment targets for volunteers. This means that incentives are clearly not sufficient to attract the youth to military service. According to the Ministry of Defence, there is a need to improve this situation, both by offering rewarding and challenging professional jobs and by providing a more adequate pay and specific legal dispensation to serve (Ministry of Defence, Minister’s Cabinet, Public Information Service 2003). Military service needs to be made attractive not only to recruits, but to those volunteers serving on a long-term contract. Such members need to know that they have promotion prospects if they are to remain. They also need to know that there is an effective system to resettle and reintegrate those whose services are no longer required. Alternatives may include transferring military personnel to administrative posts or by transferring them to civilian positions in the military, Police Force, or Fire Department or in alternative civilian careers. It must be pointed out, that there is some resistance to this from the other State Corps, who prefer to recruit their manpower through direct competition (Gaiani 2002). From this it is apparent that the shift to an all-volunteer force has brought to the fore a number of operational and personnel issues. These range from the necessity to provide equipment, arms and adequate resources to suit the new type of missions, to pay and conditions of service. This has also included other demands, for example, that health care benefits be extended to personnel after their term of service ends. Given this rising discontent, the issue of effective representation and ‘unionism’ has grown in importance.
MILITARY REPRESENTATION IN ITALY In Italy, the interests of military personnel are represented through an internal body of the Military Order ‘with a propositional7 and consultancy role aimed at contributing to the policy making decisions of commanders at the different levels of command’ (Army General Staff, Department of Legal and Economic Affairs of Personnel – Recruitment Office, State and Advancement 2004: 1). Set up in 1978,8 the purpose of this system of representation was to enhance ‘the spirit of participation and of collaboration’ and to contribute to ‘maintaining high morale and material conditions of military personnel to the greater good of the institution’ (Army General Staff, Department of Legal and Economic Affairs of Personnel – Recruitment Office, State and Advancement, 2004: 68).
The Italian armed forces 41 The system of representation rests on three levels (basic, intermediate and central) with elected joint governing bodies for the military personnel of the Army, Navy, Air Force and the Corps of the Carabinieri and that of the Customs and Inland Revenue Service. These bodies are: the Consiglio Centrale di Rappresentanza (Central Representational Council – COCER); the Consigli Intermedi di Rappresentanza (Intermediate Representational Councils – COIRs) and the Consigli di Base di Rappresentanza (Basic Representational Council – COBARs). For the purposes of representation, personnel are broken down into five categories. All categories comprise representatives of the Army, Navy, Air Force, Carabinieri and Customs and Inland Revenue Service. They are: Category A: Regular Officers and aspiring Officers in long-term service, in voluntary service and recalled to service. Category B: NCOs in long-term service, in voluntary service, reenlisted, or recalled to service. Category C: Volunteers (Cadets of the Military Academies and Schools, NCO Cadets, Cadets in the Carabinieri and Customs and Inland Revenue Service, graduates and long-term and volunteer troops, including those reenlisted, detained or recalled to service). Category D: Reserve officers in draft service. Category E: rank and file draftees, including auxiliary Carabinieri cadets. The duties shared by all the representative bodies include: • • • • • • • •
the need to safeguard jobs while carrying out military service; professional education; inclusion in the job market for those who leave the military; provisions for any injuries sustained and infirmities procured while serving or caused by service; welfare, cultural and recreational activities as well as community education and social advancement, including that of family members; organisation of conferences and canteens; health and hygiene; and housing.
COCER is the superior body and makes up the central core of the representative system. It consists of representatives from all five categories and is made up of a central bureau and several committees. The bureaux report to the five arms of service or armed corps. The committees, on the other hand, are inter-service and host the representatives of officers, NCOs and volunteer groups. The delegates from COIRs choose members from their constituencies. COCER formulates views, proposals and requests on all subjects that concern legislation or regulations governing the conditions, treatment and legal, economic, welfare, health, cultural and moral provisions safeguarding military personnel. The COIRs
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are the collegiate boards at the intermediate level. They consist of representatives from all five categories of personnel, who are elected from the delegates of COBAR employees, each regional area or equivalent, Military Precinct, Naval Precinct, Air Force Precinct as well as Divisions and Inspectorates. As well as their general duties as representational bodies, they also have specific remits regarding relations with Regional, Provincial and Town governments for anything concerning welfare, cultural and recreational activities and social advancement, including that of family members (Army General Staff, Department of Legal and Economic Affairs of Personnel – Recruitment Office, State and Advancement 2004: 73). COBARs are the collegiate boards at the base level with one for every military unit at battalion level or equivalent. They consist of representatives from all the five categories of personnel. Their composition varies according to each different arm of service. Special rules determine the number of members. Their duties mainly concern matters of a collective or local nature where solutions can only be achieved through the sole relation between the representational bodies and the governing military authorities (Army General Staff, Department of Legal and Economic Affairs of Personnel – Recruitment Office, State and Advancement 2004: 73). Matters regarding the system, training, operations, operational-logistics division, hierarchical-post relations and the employment of personnel are beyond the jurisdiction of the representational bodies. Military personnel have no right to strike (Army General Staff, Department of Legal and Economic Affairs of Personnel – Recruitment Office, State and Advancement 2004: 60). An examination of the jurisdiction and duties of the representational organisations demonstrate that their fundamental job is largely propositional and consultancy ‘aimed at contributing to the formation of the policies of Commanders at the various levels of the system’ (Army General Staff, Department of Legal and Economic Affairs of Personnel – Recruitment Office, State and Advancement 2004: 1). In other words, the Commander’s duty is that of ‘taking care of the moral and material interests of their employees in a context of participative discipline’ (Cervoni 1999). Thus, the role of the organisations of Military Representation ‘to support and stimulate the decision making process of the hierarchical authority’ is recognised, (Army General Staff, Department of Legal and Economic Affairs of Personnel – Recruitment Office, State and Advancement 2004: 1). As for negotiations, it must be pointed out that, in Italy, military trade unions are not recognised and have no legal standing. Indeed, there is an explicit ban on military personnel ‘to constitute professional associations of a trade union nature (and) to belong to other trade union organisations’.9 Even the way the representative council is allowed to negotiate is limited. Negotiation implies ‘the reaching of an agreement between the two opposite parties acting on equal terms to defend contrasting interests however determinedly and tenaciously’ (Army General Staff, Department of Legal and Economic Affairs of Personnel – Recruitment Office, State and Advancement 2004: 1). ‘Military representation, however, because it is part of Military Order, cannot be in opposition to the heads of Administration’ (Army General Staff, Department of Legal and Economic
The Italian armed forces 43 Affairs of Personnel – Recruitment Office, State and Advancement 2004: 1). Any position taken by the delegates that is antagonistic to the chain of command is deemed irreconcilable with the duties arising from the hierarchical relationship and with obedience to senior officers. For example, as elected delegates, they are required to defend their electors’ interests, but, as subordinates to their commander, they are obliged to obey. Consequently, sometimes their actions could be considered to be a breach of discipline. Nevertheless, more recent legislative provisions appear to want to grant military representation a somewhat wider remit than before. Examples include a request to include the representative councils on inter-ministerial delegations in order to solicit their opinion on legislation pertaining to the pay and conditions of service of non-executive military personnel. The greater involvement in decisionmaking is also reflected at intermediate and base levels (Cervoni 1999). In fact it is now easier for the base (COBAR) and the intermediate (COIR) levels to talk with their commanders about local problems, than for COCER to work at the central level. The forms of intervention of military representation in Italy can therefore be summarised as the right to be informed on matters within their jurisdiction, the right to preliminary consultation in cases set out by the regulations, and the right to formulate proposals on matters within their jurisdiction. However, consultation does not extend to negotiation or codetermination. Although the present system makes provision for consultation, this does not extend to the right to participate as an active member in the formulation of a decision or to the right to negotiate with the opportunity of opposing decisions that are not shared.
THE ATTITUDES OF PERSONNEL TOWARDS MILITARY REPRESENTATION Analysis of the first results of the aforementioned research carried out in Italy by the author,10 is possible to identify some of the attitudes of military personnel towards Military Representation. The lack of an effective mechanism through which military personnel can ensure that their interests are taken into consideration, underlies the present need among military personnel to reform the present representation system. Most of the complaints seem to be linked to the problem of the co-existence of ‘two institutionally antithetical principles’ within the representation. The first one is that we could define ‘hierarchical/disciplinary principle’, while the second one could be called ‘democratic/elective principle’ (Peschiulli 2004: 4). The first principle means that each elected member of the representative body remains subordinated to his/her hierarchical superior, with all the disciplinary implications. The ‘democratic/elective’ principle, on the other hand, is based on a pretension of equality and freedom to defend personal interests despite rank or position. A definition of the dividing line between the two principles and regulation of their necessary co-existence could perhaps be an initial and useful step
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towards improving the efficacy of the present system. This contradiction will be very difficult to solve because the act of giving more power to military representatives is considered to be a threat to the authority of higher command. No political majority, in the last 15 years, has ever taken a firm position either in favour or against changes that might solve this problem, the consequence being that no modification has been able to ‘… alter, on the whole, the consolidated legal positions of the two protagonists’ (Peschiulli 2004: 4). The first of the various aspects of military representation that are currently the subject of debate concerns its nature as an internal body of the military order. For some, this is the reason why those requisites of democracy, autonomy and independence that are necessary for being an effective protection tool are limited. For others, it would be desirable for the body of military representation, while being constituted in the hierarchies of the military system, to be permitted to amalgamate with professional association bodies, possibly of a trade union nature. A further solution would be to give military representation the same status as the Police Force Trade Union, which is more like a civilian trade union. While some stress the need to ensure equity in the representation of the three Services, Carabinieri and all the other armed corps in the inter-force councils, others have identified the level of dissatisfaction concerning the type of issues to be entrusted to the top body. This is a very crucial issue since it is the heart of the representative body’s task. As already mentioned, COCER can only formulate views, proposals and requests on all subjects that concern legislation or regulations governing the conditions of service and the legal, economic, welfare, health, cultural and moral provisions of military personnel. This is clearly inadequate, especially with the progressive increase of volunteers. For the first time, thousands of young men are staying in the armed forces for many years and many have to deal with problems about the management and support of family life when they are away. Linked to these items is the underlying problem of the lack of negotiating power of the Representative Body in consultations and negotiations. In addition, some concern has been expressed about the duration of tenure for members of the COCER and the possibility of having a permanent commission for the safeguard of equal opportunities. As can be deduced from the views summarised above, demands for a review of the regulations that govern military representation are widespread. However, the formation of a military union has never been the subject of much public interest. When the military forces were essentially based on conscription, discussions on defence matters were always limited to internal debate within the military or within a party political context. With the change to an all-volunteer force, the internal debate has taken on a new emphasis, but externally little has changed. In any case, the changes desired do not seem to indicate any interest among military personnel to form a civilian type of union. The only data available was produced in the 1990s (Caforio and Nuciari 1990) and shows a very small minority in favour of a true union to deal with the interests of military personnel. It seems more likely that today’s military personnel would be in favour of a representative organisation outside the chain of command.
The Italian armed forces 45 THE NEED FOR REPRESENTATION
A few alternatives In the light of the demands being made by personnel because of the great changes taking place, a shift in expectations regarding the institution has become evident. This is reflected in a growth in the demand for some new form of representation. The initial moves towards military trade unionism, in Italy just as in other European countries, is linked to the ‘loss of prestige and social appreciation of the military social group and the ensuing sense of frustration felt by personnel’ (Caforio and Nuciari 1990: 27). But, alongside the internal changes in the military, there have also been changes taking place in society that exacerbate the situation. Today the need for representation continues to exist, but while the necessary empirical data for analysing these developments is not available, we shall, nevertheless, briefly put forward a few hypotheses.11 First of all, it must be pointed out that, according to data collected for the ongoing research, the presence of a need for military representation in Italy is endorsed – not only by the state of dissatisfaction emerging from the interventions cited above, but also by the type of demands made, which point to a change in the soldier’s role and how this role is perceived by the soldier. Some of these requests arise from a desire among military personnel for the military institution ‘to work better and more efficiently’. Beyond the lack of precision in the assertion, it is important to recognise that, in a bureaucratic environment such as a military organisation, the problem to conserve and to increase the efficiency of operations requires a proactive orientation. Other concerns relate to the requests of the soldier as an employee and refer directly to the personal conditions of the soldier (conditions of pay, contract, health, hygiene, work and timetables as well as situations regarding married couples and families). The previous discussion has highlighted some of the reasons for this need. The move to an entirely professional military organisation is surely one of the most decisive factors, but also the change in mission focus resulting from both the formal redefinition of operations and the changes required by the new operational context. Rather than the loss of prestige and social appreciation, which influenced the rise for the need of representation in the 1970s, today it would seem that it is more the soldier’s perception of his role that underpins the need for better or greater representation. Developments in work relations in Western societies and their citizens’ greater propensity to defend their own interests (Manigart 1984: 4) were very important in the 1970s as a means of pressurising legislators towards the drafting of the fundamental features of the current system of representation. However, today, the changing issues are raised by internal factors such as the recruitment of volunteers at the lower levels. The restructuring of the Italian armed forces in the post-Cold War era has affected various sections of the forces differently. Most officers, for example, join the Italian armed forces with the view that this is a long-term career. If the change
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in the recruitment system is a driving force underlying the need for ‘better’ representation, one would need to establish who is most affected – volunteers or officers? One would presume that officers identify more closely with the institution and thus do not see the military as an employer with whom they have to negotiate better conditions, or that they need to oppose. According to research by (Caforio and Nuciari 1994), the Italian officer is highly institutional or, as it has been defined, a radical professional (Caforio and Nuciari 1994: 37). This orientation means that they give less importance to mainly instrumental factors, such as salary or job security, or even general working conditions. On the contrary, they consider their work as a mission. Consequently, it is more probable that officers will show greater loyalty to the institution and the chain of command. These considerations seem to support the hypothesis that the development in the perception of the need for representation is not clear-cut, but features differently according to the group of allegiance. Whatever the case, the transformation that has taken place since the end of the Cold War has greatly changed the Italian armed forces, not only its structure and organisation, but also its culture and the needs of military personnel. In sum, from the discussion above, it is possible to make some final assertions: • • •
The structure of the internal representation system needs reform, especially regarding the management of volunteers’ interests in the lower ranks. There is a need for the military representative organisation to have a greater influence on the decision-making process. The need for a representative body has changed, but it is difficult to forecast the possible lines of development, not least because the debate within the military organisation is limited and discussions among the public at large are virtually non-existent.
Notes 1 Legislative Decree n. 196/1995. 2 Percentages of the reserved places vary throughout the different Police Forces, not exceeding 60 per cent of the Carabinieri and Customs and Inland Revenue Service (Guardie di Finanza), 50 per cent of the Penitentiary Police (Polizia Penitenziaria), 95 per cent of the State Police (Polizia di Stato), Fire Fighters (Vigili del Fuoco) and of the Forestry Corps (Corpo Forestale dello Stato). Source: Minister’s Cabinet, Public Information Service (2003) Servizio Militare Professionale. Online. Available HTTP: http://www.difesa.it (accessed 14 January 2005). 3 Law 331/2000. 4 With the move towards the ‘professional army’, 2004 was, for Italian male citizens born in and before 1985, the last year of compulsory military service. 5 Order in Council n. 265/1997. 6 The National Collective Labour Contract. It is the contract stipulated between the workers’ associations (unions) and the employers’ associations. The terms of a contract between a worker and his employer have to be equal or better than those of the National Collective Labour Contract. 7 To make some proposals is one of the most important components of their role. 8 Law of 11 July 1978, No. 382, Norme di Principio sulla Disciplina Militare (Rules of Principle of Military Order).
The Italian armed forces 47 9 Article 8, D.P.R. 11 July 1978, No. 382, Regolamento che disciplina l’attuazione della Rappresentanza Militare.This ban is currently being examined by the Corte Costituzionale (Constitutional Court) to deliberate its legitimacy. 10 Olivetta, E. Le risorse umane nelle Forze Armate nel passaggio dall’esercito di massa all’esercito di volontari – Le problematiche relative alla tutela degli interessi del personale militare. Unpublished. This is a research project about the conditions of military personnel in Italy and the changes in the need for representation. It consists, first, of a study of the sociological features of COCERS’ delegates and secondly, by means of in-depth interviews and structured questionnaires, it looks at the need for representation among young officers. The results of this research will be published at the end of 2006. The opinions quoted below come from a first elaboration of the data collected by examining some letters and speeches written by military personnel and by some interviews with non-commissioned officers. 11 More empirical results cannot be provided until the end of the research.
References Army General Staff, Department of Legal and Economic Affairs of Personnel – Recruitment Office, State and Advancement (2004) Compendio sulla Rappresentanza Militare, Roma. Caforio, G. and Nuciari, M. (1990) La rappresentanza militare in Italia. Roma. Centro Militare di Studi Strategici. ——— (1994) ‘The Officer Profession: Ideal-type’, in Caforio, G. (ed.) The Military Profession in Europe. London: Sage Publications. Cervoni, F. (1999) Disposizioni concernenti la Rappresentanza Militare (R.M.), Circular 3455/02/106 of 4/06/1999, Roma. Frallicciardi, V. (2000) Quali strumenti di controllo democratico dalla riforma delle Forze Armate. Online. Available HTTP: <www.cgil.it/org.sicurpubblic/sicurezza/24giugno/ frallicciardi.html> (accessed 24 January 2005). Gaiani, G. (2002) Un libro bianco che non risolve i punti oscuri della Difesa. Available HTTP: (accessed 28 February 2005). Manigart, P. (1984) ‘Le Syndacalisme militaire en Belgique’, Courier Hebdomandaire du Centre de Recherche et d’informations socio-politiques. Mastrogiacomo, D. (1998) Le donne e i professionisti ecco l’esercito del 2000. Online. Available HTTP:<www.repubblica.it/online/fatti/militare/mastrogiacomo/mastrogia como.htlm> (accessed 14 January 2005). Ministry of Defence (2002) La Difesa – White Paper 2002, Roma. Ministry of Defence, Minister’s Cabinet, Public Information Service (2003) Servizio Militare Professionale. Online. Available HTTP: (accessed 14 January 2005). Nuciari, M. and Sertorio, G. (2003) Nuovi Ruoli per Nuove Forze Armate, Torino: Giappichelli. Olivetta, E. Le risorse umane nelle Forze Armate nel passaggio dall’esercito di massa all’esercito di volontari – Le problematiche relative alla tutela degli interessi del personale militare. Unpublished. Peschiulli, E. (2004) Lettera Aperta all’Onorevole Giuseppe Cossiga, Relatore del progetto di Riforma della Rappresentanza Militare. Online. Available HTTP: <www.militari. org/2004/cocer-rappresentanza-14082004.htm.> (accessed 28 June 2004).
4
The French military and union rights At the margin of full citizenship? Michel Louis Martin*
Though the unionisation of military personnel is not topical in France, as it is not authorised, the case is not without interest. The prohibition for servicemen to join a union or a professional association ought to be approached as belonging to a larger system of restrictions in the area of rights and freedoms associated with a military profession, still viewed as distinctive, and as a means of objective control of the military institution. The negation of union rights, which is still not questioned by the military, is paralleled by a complex internal mechanism of participation and representation of professional interests. Although there are no signs of change at present, several factors could change the situation in future and reverse present trends. As such, the topic remains poorly investigated and often subsumed in larger studies about the statutory condition of the military profession. Moreover, systematic surveys and opinion polls are lacking, especially in the armed forces, in which the apparent prejudice against unionisation would need to be tested at different levels within the organisation. Consequently, this chapter should be seen as a preliminary and descriptive assessment of the French case.
NO UNIONS, NO PROFESSIONAL ASSOCIATIONS As a rule, institutions that are associated with the State ‘charisma’, in other words which contribute towards its capacity for political domination, have always had a special status, generally apart from common law. Their members have thus found themselves placed in an exceptional position with respect to the overall system of human rights and individual freedoms. This has been the case in numerous sectors of public administration, where employees are subject to restrictions affecting their freedom of speech, as well as their political and social rights. Security, and the continuation of service, neutrality and hierarchy, are just some of the principles justifying such restrictions, more especially in the armed forces. Several factors have recently come into play which have affected this situation. First, the devaluation of the State, which may be observed today at the level of its hegemony as well as that of its realm, has contributed to a secularisation of most institutions contributing to its centrality. At the same time, the continuing process
The French military and union rights 49 of democratisation and the expansion of citizens’ rights have rendered any measure limiting these freedoms or discriminating among its beneficiaries less legitimate, even in the name of such imperatives as security or national defence. Furthermore, mainly in order to meet manpower needs, to retain members within the ranks, and to ensure adequate return to civilian life, the professionalisation of the security forces, particularly the military, has compelled them to follow the logic of the market. As a consequence, any restriction, social or economic, legal or political, appears as counter-productive, especially with respect to prospective applicants whose career expectations and referentials tend to be of an ‘occupational’ or ‘contractual’ nature rather than an ‘institutional’ or ‘vocational’ one. Moreover, necessities born out of new patterns of military organisation and engagement, such as inter-operability, induced by the increased involvement in combined international missions, imply a standardisation of statutes, generally through the alignment of the most flexible and open norms. Today, most armed forces of the Euro-Atlantic area have evolved systems of rights and freedoms which are more or less similar, and not very different from those applied in parent societies, even for those rights seen to interfere or even compete with the basic aspects of the military institution, such as hierarchy, readiness or neutrality. This is particularly the case concerning the right to join or to form trade unions, as well as professional associations.1 France, somewhat paradoxically, given its role in the area of human rights, but in conformity with the statist tradition, is, as far as the statutory conditions of its military is concerned, an exception to these changes. Recognition of union rights was accorded to civil servants in October 1946 and extended in December 1947 and September 1948 respectively to members of the Republican Security Companies and police forces (though prohibiting striking). But this right is still denied to active military personnel. It could have been expected, that with the French armed forces moving away from the traditional model of military organisation and culture2 and its active engagement in cooperative multilateral actions,3 such a restriction might have been dropped. This has not been the case, despite the feeling that a reform of the General Statute of Military Personnel, which dated from July 1972,4 was due. Indeed, the new text voted by the Parliament in March 2005 (to come into effect after 1 July 055) has changed nothing at all regarding union rights, preferring, as in the past, to let the expression and the protection of the professional interests of active military personnel be handled through the chain of command and alternate means of internal consultation. Thus, paragraph 2 of article 6 indicates, in terms exactly similar to those which had been used in 1972 (art. 10 § 1) that ‘the existence of military professional organisations of a union nature, as well as the joining by active military personnel of professional organisations are incompatible with rules of military discipline’. The refusal to grant union rights is thus clearly set out in the lead chapter of the statute, devoted to ‘civil and political rights’. For that matter, and this is not fortuitous, article 6 indicates also that ‘exercising the right to strike is incompatible with the military condition’. Consequently, the military is explicitly excluded from the benefits of union rights granted to civil servants in France by the General
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Statute of Civil Servants and the 1983 Law concerning the rights and duties of functionaries, which guarantees them union freedom. This prohibition, which the Review Commission for the General Statute of Military Personnel (Review Commission thereafter) judged that it ‘obviously had to be maintained’, is twofold. First, active military personnel are not entitled, either to set up unions, in other words to join collective organisations specific to the military or to join individually or collectively existing civilian trade unions. Secondly, military personnel may not become members of associations of a professional type since their goal is to defend the professional rights and interests of their affiliates. While not mentioned (as with the former text of 1972) only the affiliation to non-professional groups is tolerated. Military personnel are no longer required to report to the military authorities about the functions they occupy in these groups. Formerly, they would have been required to quit such functions and they might even have been dismissed. Yet, should these organisations get involved with questions of professional interest (which happens with a few associations for retired military personnel) they could then be considered as ‘professional’ groups and membership by military personnel would be unacceptable. This is what happened to the Association for the Defence of Military Personnel’s Rights (ADefDroMil), founded in April 2001, and subsequently considered by the Defence Minister as having a ‘unionist character’, thus forcing its active-duty members to leave it or ‘face disciplinary action’.
RESTRICTED CITIZENSHIP It should be stressed that the ban on active French military personnel from belonging to any union or professional association is only one aspect of an overall system that restricts rights and freedoms and which, despite various amendments brought about since 1972, deprives the military of full citizenship. This is aptly described, albeit in an exaggerated way by the old term of ‘legal confinement’ which was coined by jurist Maurice Hauriou in 1910 to describe the highly restrictive legal conditions set up by the Third Republic for its military personnel.6 The Statute of 1972, whilst it unified and simplified some quite disparate legislation, did bring about a number of changes by setting down the principle of giving the military the benefit of ‘all rights and freedoms recognised to the citizen’ (art. 6). But, if there was some progress compared to the earlier system (the so-called ‘preliminary agreement’, according to which, everything not authorised is forbidden (Sénéchal 1964)) the fact that a number of rights were still prohibited or restricted, made it still a demeaning system (Bacchetta 2004). The General Military Discipline Regulation, instituted by a decree of 1975, confirms in article 10 this system of exception in the area of union and political rights.
The French military and union rights 51 On these points, the Law of March 2005, though aiming, to some extent, to align the statute of military personnel with that of civilian state employees, has not, paradoxically, altered things in a fundamental manner. The principle of a full enjoyment of the same rights and freedoms afforded to other citizens, is (as in the 1972 text) still accompanied with a number of exceptions (art. 3). The new Statute therefore should not be considered as a reform. It appears that in the mind of its initiators there was no question of changing the old regulations in the area of civil and political rights,7 but rather of simply cleaning some of the more out-of-date provisions. In sum, to repeat the words of a parliamentary member during the debate in the National Assembly on the 14 December 2004, it is ‘more a change in the continuity than a rupture’. Removed from the statute thus were, for example, the need to request official permission to marry a foreigner, the need for notification of a spouse’s profession, the banning of certain publications in military areas, and the requirement for permission before discussing political topics or topics relating to a foreign country or an international organisation in public. To put it another way, military personnel, like any other State employees, have only to submit to the usual obligation of professional discretion, of protection of professional and state secrets, they are no longer bound by the strict political conformism that members of the higher Civil Service impose on themselves. Yet, it ought be said that given the culture of discipline (and the disciplinary means available) as well as the residual arbitrariness proper to any military institution the feeling persists that this freedom cannot be exercised in a completely free fashion, even off-duty. So in the context of the legal vagueness surrounding notions such as the obligation of discretion, free speech will tend to resemble ‘free censorship’ (Matelly 2004: 22). Furthermore, the practice of political rights is still not free and remains somewhat constrained. Though active military personnel have been eligible to vote since a ruling of 7 August 1945 (rights they had been deprived of since the beginnings of the Third Republic8) they are still ‘forbidden […] to join groups and associations of a political nature’ (art. 5 § 1er) despite the Basic Law declaring that political parties contribute to the expression of suffrage. It is easy to imagine the consequences of a limitation that the Review Commission had seemed to be reluctant to renew and which it debated at length.9 It jeopardises the possibility that serving military personnel might ‘run for any elective public function’ (§ 2). In effect, it is unfeasible for servicemen and women to be able to apply for a European, a national, or even a local mandate without being for a long time an active member of a political party. Therefore, the suspension of the prohibition to belong to a political party ‘for the duration of the electoral campaign’, as it is stated, is of little use, except for some local and unimportant mandates that are generally accessible without a strong political connection. That is not all, since once elected, (because of the party affiliation which such responsibilities generally require from elected representatives) the candidate is obliged to be placed on secondment (§ 3) – which implies a suspension of salary. Generally, as the only mandates which are attainable in practice are not salaried, that
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obligation will deter military personnel from exercising this political right, except for those having the appropriate financial means.10 Quite rightly, the Review Commission spoke of this arrangement as being a ‘de facto quasi-ineligibility’.11 It has also been pointed out that the new Statute is also restrictive in the choice of residence, freedom of movement (art. 7 § 2 and 3) exceptional and end-ofservice leaves and bonuses in case of anticipated departure. This seems to be more rigorous than previously12 when questions regarding movement and place of residence were only a matter for governmental regulations and not law. It has been argued that this new, tighter legislation was necessitated by the now higher tempo of external intervention involving French armed forces. So, the absence of union rights is simply another element of that incomplete citizenship accorded to French military personnel on active duty. It should be noted that this truncated system of rights and freedoms exists despite a doubtful constitutional and legal conformity. If the judge admits that the lawmaker, according to circumstances, may restrict the enjoyment of some rights, such possibilities should not have a general and absolute range, as is the case at the moment. If it is admissible that the right to strike should be prohibited for members of some particular institutions, the restriction of rights to associate or to join and form unions, erected as a ‘general principle of law’, has no constitutional value at all. It is true that insofar as the modes of presentation to the Constitutional Council proceeds by bringing action, the unconstitutional nature of the prohibition of union rights will not be sanctioned, except on the occasion of a revision of the Bill and only then during the brief time after the vote following the last reading, and providing that a group of Parliamentary members dare institute such a recourse. Legally speaking the reasons evoked for the incompatibility of union rights with military duty are no longer justified, at least when it is said to interfere with military discipline or continuation of service, especially as union rights are already authorised in police forces. Such a system of rights and freedoms is also questionable with respect to the spirit, if not the letter, of an international law rich in texts and treaties inviting States to give all their employees the benefit of union rights and freedom of association. If all of them are not applicable or endowed with constraining powers in the case of France, some of them, such as the European Convention for Protection of Human Rights and Fundamental Freedoms, or Resolution 903 adopted by the Parliamentary Assembly of the European Council, place the French particularism at variance with what tends now to be viewed as democratically correct norms.13 Therefore, the Statute of 2005 has, from the standpoint of civil and political rights, brought no major improvements to the restrictive citizenship of the military. It mirrors the unwillingness of the political classes to change a status quo conceived originally as an objective means of controlling the military institution; a status quo, moreover, that the military does not seem ready to question, especially regarding the existing, alternative means to protect and represent their professional interests. Before looking at this particular issue, it is necessary to examine the reasons that justify the limitation on the right of the military to unionise.
The French military and union rights 53 THE UNIQUE NATURE OF THE MILITARY In the light of the prevailing political and military views, which incidentally do not diverge much from those held in the past, all arguments raised to legitimise the absence of union rights in the armed forces rest on the unique nature of the military. This is based upon a rigid conformist version that is still ‘heroic’, and the fundamentals which structure its practice come from a conception of soldiering which, in general, the military as well as public opinion continue to share. The first article of the 2005 Statute emphasises this distinctiveness and its subsequent imperatives with, comparatively, more insistence than the text of 197214 stating that ‘The military condition requires in any circumstance a spirit of sacrifice which could lead to the supreme sacrifice, discipline, availability, loyalism and neutrality’. In this respect, discussions held during the meeting of the Review Commission, debates in the Parliament, as well as informal interviews with members of the armed forces, reveal a strong consensus about the necessity to maintain such values, and consequently, to avoid any change likely to contradict them. At least, everyone agrees, to quote a former spokesman of the National Assembly Defence Committee, that ‘soldiering will never be a trade as any other, nor the military a State service as any other’.15 The current Defence Minister herself talked about the ‘irreducible specificity’ of the military profession; one moreover to be involved in the ‘use of open force’ and ‘in extreme situations’. These definitions are somewhat at odds with the more rationalised notions viewing the profession of arms as simply ‘State employees or citizens in uniform’ as many, generally civilian sociologists, claim. A basic tenet of this uniqueness is that membership of a union by military personnel would undermine the neutrality of the armed forces, by introducing the risk of politicisation, because union membership is seen as being similar to that of joining a political party. Though the French union movement has always, at least officially, denied any political affiliation, a clear distinguishing between political and trade unionist struggles appears difficult to hold. Any ideological postures concerning the State, economics, power, and so on, have led to doctrinal stands among major trade unions which have favoured implicit, if not explicit connections to Leftist political parties. For many, therefore, the unionisation of the military would not only amount to circumventing the prohibition to join a political group or association, but also contradicting the principle of neutrality, a principle moreover seen as the safeguard of the armed forces’ legitimacy. The maintenance of neutrality appears as a key element in the complete subordination of the military to civilian power and also of the favourable view the society holds of the military. It is argued that any doubt about ideological proclivities in the forces would ‘confuse’ a public said to hold a more positive image of the military than ever before, ‘which is undoubtedly due to its neutrality’. The report of the Review Commission insisted that ‘it does not suffice for the armed forces to be neutral; it is also necessary that this neutrality be above suspicion’, adding that ‘a strict requirement of neutrality
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reinforces the image of the military in the eyes of the population; it facilitates its relations with the state and local authorities […]’ (‘Rapport de la Commission…’ 2003: 7, 8). This conviction was echoed by the Minister of Defence who pointed out before the Senate Foreign Affairs Committee that ‘the support brought by the French to their armed forces is not without relation with their due respect for the principle of neutrality’.16 Another argument, frequently resorted to and perceived as justifying prohibition of military personnel to belong to unions or professional associations, is the impact such freedoms could have on the spirit and modus operandi that the military institution has to conform to in order to function. Because union rights presuppose a choice in joining various existing groups, the pluralism thus created, and one, for that matter, ideologically coloured, could be a threat to the internal cohesion of the military; it could initiate inter-hierarchical factions, such as NCOs and officers, thus creating or deepening tensions between categories of personnel, or even foster inter-organisational divides between services. But above all, because the union ideology generally postulates equality, because the function of a union presupposes an independence of decisionmaking, unionisation tends to introduce a parallel hierarchy capable of operating autonomously, with the possibility of disagreement with the official chain of command. This could lead to breaches of discipline because the union line could be different from that of the hierarchy. In sum, the union concept introduces a risk of interference in the activities of the military. Furthermore, at the top of the system where the military and the military power articulate, unionisation could entail postures which might interfere with the subordination of the former to the latter, or possibly challenges to the authority of the State in the area of defence policy. Another problem concerns the risk that unionism in the forces could pose to military readiness. This was put forward during the debate in the National Assembly on 14 December 2004 by the Defence Committee Rapporteur of the National Assembly, when he depicted the image of ‘a union able to blockade the access to a ship or a plane at the time of an intervention’. In observing that ‘there are no unions in major armed forces comparable to ours, the American and the British’, and that ‘in armed forces where unionisation exists, one cannot say that efficiency is present’, the Defence Minister clearly inferred that the operability of a force is not compatible with unionisation.17 Needless to add, that such a fear that the readiness of a unionised military is problematical feels on the view that unionisation and striking are generally perceived as intertwined, especially as the latter is unanimously and rightly rejected as threatening the normal functioning of the military and its capacity to fulfil its missions. Though these two rights can be practised independently, as in police forces, it is clear that the 2005 Bill, unlike the 1972 Statute which treated them in two separate articles (art. 10 and 11), by presenting them in the same article, beginning with the prohibition of the right to strike, implied they were interconnected. The intention in this brief overview is not to return to the legal and political relevance of these arguments, except to say that in any case they are not new and
The French military and union rights 55 not different from those evoked in the past about the opportunity to set up professional associations for civil servants. It is obvious that striking and unionisation are not mutually inclusive and that consequently the continuation of service cannot be brought up to restrict the latter. Moreover, union rights may exist without prejudicing the hierarchical principle, and it does not automatically threaten cohesion. Unions are no longer about the class struggle organisations presupposing a hostile attitude toward the hierarchy. Lastly, the risk of politicisation through unionisation is limited since such a drift would expose the union to sentence by the Cassation Court, as was the case, for example, with the National Front of the Police, a union considered to be an instrument of a political party. Yet in the context of an inflated military specificity, these arguments still have some relevance, and all the more so in the area of freedoms and restrictions of the military, the French situation is not that different from other countries claiming to have a more democratic system of rights.18 An analysis of the debates in Parliament as well as before the various Parliamentary Committees shows some divergence within the political community, but nothing of any significance. At the National Assembly, for example, the Bill for the new Statute obtained a favourable majority from three of the four Parliamentary groups, the Communist and Republican group as ‘positive’ by its representative. In a new departure, some voices from the Left have argued for the introduction of union rights. Yet at the same time, their concern for enlarging and inproving the scope of action of existing internal means of consultation suggests that the Left is not unanimously in favour of a full-fledge unionisation of the military. In the 1970s when the unionisation issue was raised in the context of an acute crisis in the military, among draftees as well as career personnel, the Socialists and the Communists opposed it, proposing rather to extend the internal substitutes.19 Furthermore, during its quasi 20 year domination of the French political scene after 1981, the Left has never seriously sought to change the status quo. In fact, the Left seems to fear that unionisation in the military could offer an opportunity for rightist and extreme-right groups to penetrate the military and seduce it away from the democratic spirit. On the Right, unanimity against unionisation is beyond doubt as shown by the numerous remarks made by representatives of the ruling majority which are completely aligned with the governmental standpoint. Such a consensus on the Right feeds on the belief that ‘there cannot be any union action without striking’ and also that union rights are not really consistent with a State employee’s status. Though unionisation has been conceded to civilian functionaries, they argue that this is because their grievances threatened public order, which is not the case at all for the military; the gendarmes demonstration of December 2001 for example remained quite constrained. So, since it is not seen as a ‘natural’ freedom, it is argued on the Right that there is no reason for granting a freedom whose expression can only be directed against the State. As for the military, even though systematic surveys and polls are lacking to evaluate opinions within the various sectors and services, it seems as if the majority of military personnel do not favour unionisation, instead subscribing to
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arguments derived from the unique nature of their profession. During the debates about the new Statute, political and military authorities from the Defence Ministry and experts in the various Parliamentary Committees claimed that there is a ‘very strong attachment of servicemen from all horizons to the principles of discipline and neutrality’ and consequently a generally ‘shared opposition to the idea of unionisation in the forces’ which is reinforced by the ‘image of confrontation associated with French trade-unionism’ (Dulait 2004–2005: 22 and 9). Informal interviews confirm these impressions of reluctance, if not outright opposition. For officers, who are by necessity more involved in the operational as well as intellectual aspects of the profession, whilst not of course blind to the day-to-day routine of life, what counts in terms of rights is freedom of speech, claimed by some as ‘the duty of speech’ (Courtade 2004).20 Among NCOs and enlisted personnel, especially those involved in jobs away from front line activities, the sensitivity to the material conditions of the profession is of course greater, but which does not mean that they are favourable to unionism.21 In a way, again, the ‘heroic’ dimension of the military specificity continues to permeate the whole institution. However, the Review Commission has noted that most categories of personnel are quite aware that the absence of a union is undoubtedly the root cause of the less favourable treatment they feel they suffer, especially when compared with other civil servants. Therefore, if they continue to be willing to have their professional interests dealt with through the usual internal mechanisms, both hierarchical and consultative, they expect them to work more efficiently.
THE INTERNAL PROTECTION OF PROFESSIONAL INTERESTS AND ITS LIMITATIONS No institution is able to function and maintain itself if the morale and material problems of their members are not identified and remedied. The cohesion and efficiency, essential for military action, depends upon it. Traditionally this was a role carried out by the hierarchy, though in an unsystematic and informal ways. Whilst the leader is the one who gives orders, he is also expected to listen and look after the interests of subordinates. He acts as a middleman between subordinates and superiors and understands the former’s worries in order to transmit them to the latter in order to find a solution. Numerous teachings on the art of command point to this twofold dimension of military leadership. In addition, the military institution has at its disposal other resources to deal with questions regarding the morale and the well-being of servicemen and women. For instance: inspections, aimed at evaluating the functioning of units, during which issues can be raised about an individual’s situation and about the carrying of duties; morale reports (instituted during World War I and systematised since then in the various services); commissions set up to look after the material life of soldiers; personnel representatives, such as the presidents of chief-corporals and NCOs. With the modernisation and the professionalisation of armed forces, but also with the evolution of attitudes of personnel (which has sometimes taken an acute
The French military and union rights 57 turn, as in the mid-1970s, and later, in 1989 and 2001 with the gendarmes) these mechanisms and bodies have gradually become institutionalised and have seen their powers and scope of activities extended, whilst, at the same time, other collective ones have been set up at national level. Firstly, the role of the hierarchical superior in the protection of professional interests at every echelon of the institution has now been legalised and has thus become a right (for subordinates) and a duty (for the superior). The 1972 Statute stated that ‘it is the leader’s duty, at every level, to look after his/her subordinates’ interests and report through the official channel any general problem which comes to his/her attention’, a provision repeated in the new text in exactly the same words (art. 6 § 3). The fact that the law-maker has inserted the obligation for a leader to be accountable for his/her subordinates’ interests in the same clause and jointly with the prohibition on unions, professional associations and the right to strike, suggests that it is considered to be a substitute to these rights.22 Secondly, existing mechanisms have recently been amended or reorganised, whilst others have been introduced, in order to render the system of protection less occasional and incomplete as it was before. Inspections which were formerly numerous and diverse, have been unified for each service under the authority of a general-inspector. Accompanied by an evaluating team, he is in charge of auditing the technical, material and moral functioning of the various corps. Reports on morale are now conducted more regularly and scientifically to ensure greater accuracy and reliability (Hoffmann 1995: 87–97). Likewise the system of commissions has been reconstituted, with the setting up of ‘participative commissions’, composed of military personnel now elected by their peers and chaired by unit commanders. These commissions are generally consulted on issues linked with the conditions of life and work in the service. Personnel representation is in the hands of the ‘presidents of categories’ who have become the key elements of consultation at a local level. They are elected for two years (renewable) and are members by right of the participative commissions. The presidents of the rank and file, those of NCOs, and those of officers are full-time representatives of their category, in charge of advising the command on professional, morale or social issues. With the years, their role, though only consultative, has grown in importance to the point that today they form an indispensable and full-time echelon in the military institution, serving as spokesmen for their category and interlocutors of the command that they advise. In sum, participative commissions and presidents constitute a system of consultation at local level, functioning outside the hierarchy. They allow personnel, on the one hand, to express in collective and direct manner their feelings about the conditions in which they exercise their profession, and on the other hand, to participate in matters regarding the various aspects of the life of the military community. At national level, that of the Defence Ministry, a Bill of November 1969 has instituted the High Council for the Military Function (hereafter CSFM to use the French acronym) which is in charge of advising on issues relating to the professional and statutory conditions of military personnel. It is made up of 85 members, chosen at random from members of the seven Councils for the Military Function (CFMs) flanking now the CSFM. Since a reform of February 1990, the
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members of these seven councils are drawn by lots from volunteers representing the three armed forces, the gendarmerie, and the three other defence services (health, armament, fuels) and every category of personnel. Though without autonomy, the CFMs are in charge of examining questions relating to life and working conditions in the various services and preparing the agenda for the CSFM. In total, these bodies consist of 339 persons who have a guaranteed freedom of speech. This is a proportion of one representative for every thousand persons in uniform, which, at least numerically speaking, is quite representative of the whole institution. The mission of these councils is not limited to examining legislative or governmental texts about the military profession, they also look at issues of a wider interest, such as accommodation, resettlement, mobility, etc. However, in this respect their role is lesser than equivalent agencies in the civilian public service because they may not deal with any other questions, particularly those regarding the organisation and the administration of the services, as well as the utilisation of the forces. However sophisticated these mechanisms and bodies have become, there are a number of limitations to their ability to represent and defend the professional interests of military personnel. The greatest shortcoming is the inability to exercise any pressure on the hierarchy, whether civilian at the very summit of the military, or military inside the ranks, to respond or to follow-up the problems raised. Moreover, if the Statute entrusts the hierarchical leader with a mission which is far from being negligible, since he/she is in charge to ‘attend to’ (which is more than to simply ‘defend’) subordinates’ interests, in other words, to foresee and anticipate personal and material problems in order to appeal to the upper echelons, they are completely deprived of any ways to coerce the hierarchy into acting (unless to engage into quite consequential contentious proceedings), especially when it is easy for the hierarchy to oppose the higher interest of the institution. At the same time the commander is both a leader and a subordinate, hence he/she is in the position of both ‘judge and jury’. This position is all the more ambivalent in that he/she has to deal with the personal interests of subordinates and those general of the institution simultaneously. Concerning the structures for consultation, (an improper term as this implies a degree of joint decision-making seen as incompatible with the principle of discipline), they help compensate for the inherent weaknesses of the hierarchical system, but being consultative only, they are not in a situation to impose their own standpoint.23 Nonetheless, military personnel appear to be generally satisfied with the consultation formulae functioning at local level, which allows them to express their views about the conditions surrounding their work outside the hierarchy. The Review Commission had noted that consultation at this level was perceived as simply formalistic and ritualistic, without ‘much effort being made to accommodate the expectations of personnel’. Moreover, the composition of these bodies was criticised. Many regard the method used to appoint members as unrepresentative except from a purely statistical standpoint (‘Rapport de la Commission…’ 2003: 25). Despite the guarantees offered in terms of freedom of speech, they are quite aware that the format of the meetings, bringing together individuals of
The French military and union rights 59 various ranks and status, is not propitious to a completely free expression of opinions, since institutional reflexes of self-censorship, approbation and formalism, continue to operate. The obvious weakness in expertise of many members in the area of legal and administrative issues reinforces this viewpoint. During debates in Parliament, the issue about a possible election of these Council members has been discussed. Once more, arguments based upon the fear of interference with the hierarchy and discipline were put forward, as well as other reasons concerning technical problems and possible politicisation effects that might result from organising such an election at national level with voters scattered throughout and outside the country. Yet, a number of adjustments have been envisaged in order to restore some coherence to the consultation system and increase its credibility in the eyes of its users24. If as for the designation of those seating in the seven CFMs (which will be from now on chaired by the services’ Chiefs of staff and Directors), the drawing of the lots, now by ‘category and link with the services’, among the presidents of categories and those seating in the participative commissions, would remain the rule, such a procedure will be associated with the election of the CSFM by and among CFM members; a CSFM whose role, and it is an indication of the significance it is now given, is highlighted by its integration in the new Statute (art. 18). Moreover, it is planned to give a more complete training to the members of these various councils to facilitate, from a material as well as organisational standpoint, their mission. At the same time, units in the military will be informed of the actions of these bodies. In order to improve the consultation system, an innovation was introduced by the 2005 Statute, which all parties in Parliament agreed upon, which set up a High Committee for the Evaluation of the Military Condition (art. 1 § 4). Strictly speaking, it is not another consultation agency but rather a body of technical expertise in charge of preparing an annual report to the Head of State and Parliament. As an independent body, the High Committee will be composed of experts from outside the defence establishment and the political community.25 It will have to prepare a regular, objective and comparative examination of the military condition, not only its material and financial aspects, but also an evaluation of the consequences of all actions and deployments of armed forces on the welfare of their personnel and their families, on recruitment and so on. Other procedures, already implemented in some services, will probably be extended to the whole institution. These include the addition of a document prepared by each president of category in order to give a greater significance and utility to the report on morale, which, despite several adjustments, does not properly reflect the real mood of personnel. Another innovation is the setting up of a ‘personnel correspondent’ or a ‘morale NCO’ who could be addressed directly and would be in charge of helping authorities to evaluate the feeling and expectations of personnel (‘Rapport de la Commission…’ 2003: 31). Lastly, mention needs to be made of the associations of retired military, which are also in a situation to act as agents to represent and defend the professional interests of servicemen. Though they operate in an indirect and extra-institutional manner, some of them consider their mission to work for the benefit of active
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duty personnel as well as fulfilling their traditional functions of working for the benefit of retirees. These groups are indeed powerful lobby groups, which, thanks to their members’ knowledge of military realities, are able to assist their active duty colleagues by enlightening the hierarchy about its duty to defend its members’ interests. Yet here again, their influence is limited since they are not directly involved in the concrete issues of active duty and are less aware of the actual conditions in the ranks (Dieu 2000: 76–9).
WHAT PROSPECTS FOR UNIONISATION? The question to be asked after these cursory remarks about the present situation in the French military is whether the problem of group representation independent of the chain of command will evolve. For the time being, the question remains somewhat academic, as with the new Statute just being introduced, it is hard to imagine any change for some time. Whilst, from the standpoint of civil and political rights the current system of representation ‘lacks ambition’, as some have pointed out during the debates, especially when compared to the civil service or the armed forces of other European countries, military personnel appear satisfied with the present system. One reason for this is the way in which these processes have developed and are now implemented, particularly at local level where these structures have become more flexible and efficient. A case in point is the extension of the role of the presidents of category’s with regard to the social dimensions of the military career. They now act as advisors for the monitoring of military personnel career planning, by working in collaboration with another institution such as the directory of human resources. As for the agencies of consultation at the national level, their legitimacy and efficiency could as well be strengthened by measures improving the legal capacities of the councils, their members’ expertise, and their power of proposition and in fixing the agenda of meetings. This evolution is the result of an adaptation to the features of an institution now organised on an all-volunteer model, but also taking into account the expectations of a military personnel who is still attached to a career conception which is different from that held in the civilian working world. This state of mind excludes, for the time being, the methods of representation which apply to the rest of the public sector. This being said, whatever the reforms which could be brought about, the system presently at work in the military shows impassable limits linked to its structures and philosophy; the main one being its lack of independence from the chain of command. And from the standpoint of representation and defence of servicemen’s interests, such constraints render it technically less efficient than the conventional unionist and associative mechanisms, consequently less adapted to deal with a different and more complex pattern of grievances. There are several factors that could come into play and converge to affect the current pattern and rate of demands, thus contributing to a shift in the present
The French military and union rights 61 system of protecting interests so as to legitimise unionisation, and perhaps even modify the whole system of military rights and freedoms. A first one is linked to the deepening of European integration. This process will inevitably favour the standardisation of the system of rights and freedoms among the Union members’ civil and military services around the most liberal model. Meanwhile, the multiplication of resolutions, recommendations and other regulations issued by European institutions about the status of European servicemen,26 will encourage legal appeals and proceedings to these institutions as well as requests for action from European trade unions or associations which oppose countries like France who are seen as breaking European norms in the area of union and association rights for the military. From this viewpoint, campaigns undertaken by the European Organisation of Military Associations or the European Federation of Public Services could gain in momentum and lead the European Courts to interpret existing treaties and other standards in a more radical way, which would be less favourable to present French legislation. At the same time, the building-up of multilateral forces, through the extension of the European defence, will gradually lead to an homogenisation of legal and disciplinary systems for military personnel, as well as their rights and ways of protecting their interests. A second factor relates to the changing composition of military personnel and the impact this may have on its value system. Until now, the shift to an all volunteer force in 1996 has not created any disruptions or identity crises as feared although some degree of erosion in the military condition has been noted (Trucy 1999; Vinçon 1999). The increasing tempo of external interventions (in a wide range of actions all around the world), as well as domestic operations (against terrorist threats with the Vigipirate programme or disaster rescues) which has coincided with force restructuring has contributed to a large extent. In addition, the material and financial advantages attached to these types of action, have eased statutory worries and contributed to a continuing sense of uniqueness within the institution. Such an equilibrium undoubtedly is temporary. The continuation of the allvolunteer format will require first the recruitment of a growing proportion of personnel under contract, that is in transit in the military before resuming a civilian career (a conversion whose success depends on the degree of continuity between both phases). It will also increase the outsourcing of numerous services and the integration of more civilian personnel. The overall result of these trends will result in an accentuation of the ‘civilianisation’ process. This will surely affect and modify career conceptions, even the whole idea of the military profession, among a greater number of personnel, and beyond that the ways of expressing expectations in the area of professional interests and, above all, ways of organising their protection. This could result in a greater demand for independent representation, even unionisation. Tendencies now current in the civilian world where individualism, personal satisfaction and risk avoidance prevail over the greater good of the institution, and arouse a growing ‘Juridicisation’ of intra-organisational relations, could likewise
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affect the military. This already seems the case in the Gendarmerie, which is probably the most civilianised of the armed services. Today its members tend to appeal not only through the hierarchy but also to the courts about decisions regarding transfers, duties and obligations which were formerly obeyed without query. This is creating internal difficulties that elsewhere could be avoided through union intervention. Moreover, cooperation with other security forces, both foreign and national, enjoying a more liberal status could arouse via a process of ‘envious comparison’ with others, an interest for other and less restrictive ways and means for handling the defence of professional interests. To quote an example, the malaise which has affected the Gendarmerie for the last decade, and linked to material and moral frustrations, is probably based on the gendarmes’ awareness about the status of the Police (which has the right to unionise) – a force with which it is inclined to compare itself, given the similarities in their respective missions. One can easily imagine the feelings of the Gendarmerie when put in charge of law and order operations in overseas French territories in the place of Republican Security Companies (CRS) which were able to avoid such missions, thanks to their unions. It is no coincidence that the editorial content and style, especially the vindictive tone, of l’Essor de la gendarmerie nationale, the widely read bulletin of the National Union of Retired Personnel of Gendarmerie (UNPRG), is modelled on the bulletins issued by Police unions. What is more, beyond an overall effect, the process of civilianisation, because its impact on the various sectors of the institution is unequal, could create or deepen internal divisions and push the various groups to act in a corporative manner (by being primarily concerned with protecting its own interests) and demand the most appropriate means to uphold their claims against those of other groups. The NCO corps, for example, could be subjected to internal, vertical as well as horizontal, tensions between those involved in military-oriented tasks and others in charge of civilian-oriented tasks. But also, within this group27 there might be tensions that in the long run could lead to serious disintegration and as a consequence to disillusionment with the usual internal means of representation. Another emerging division, which could take a corporatist turn, is between fast-track officers coming from military academies and advanced war college (who are said to belong to an elite suspected of being close to the centres of political power) and other officers who have been promoted through the ranks and are destined to occupy the junior or upper-middle ranks. The possibility could exist that they may protest, if not refuse, to accept this two-tier system of officership. Further, if the tempo of external, even domestic missions has, as just mentioned, a soothing effect on corporatist preoccupations, by providing the military with bonuses, should it be maintained however, it could also have counter-productive effects for servicemen engaged in intervening forces in a quasi-continuous geographical turn-over. On the one hand, it is likely to amplify personal and familial problems usually induced by this type of situation. The rise of associations of soldiers’ wives concerned with the moral and material interests
The French military and union rights 63 of their husbands in the ranks is significant in this regard.28 On the other hand, as is already the case in France, a high rate of external interventions tends to revive questions about their organisational impact, for example, on the wear and tear of equipment that budgetary constraints prevent from being replaced, but also on training and education which tend to be neglected (Cours des Comptes 2004). In such circumstances, it becomes difficult for the expression and defence of professional interests to be limited only to matters regarding the material conditions of military life and not to be expanded to larger questions regarding the organisation and employment of forces. So, the conditions for the emergence of a new and more complex pattern of grievances, which in turn would make the unionist solution the answer, are not simply theoretical. Also, as with Germany, unionisation could be seen as a means to prevent the military from becoming isolated from society and serve as a link between the nation and its armed forces. Furthermore, and the example of the Police is a case in point, unionism can push forward reforms that the State would perhaps otherwise not undertake.29 Unionisation could begin with professional associations, as it has in the past in other security forces and in the Civil Service. One advantage of this is that it is compatible with the prohibition to strike and is less militant, intrusive, and politicised. In the civil service and the police, the protection of members’ interests have started with such professional associations, which have transformed into de facto unions, before being recognised. Such then could be the course to be followed in the military, should professional associations be admitted first. All the more so as the present reluctance of the military to unionise, based upon an ‘adversarial’ perception of trade unions is likely to decline. In this process, the role of one service, such as the Gendarmerie (which is more aggrieved than the others, and less averse to civilian forms of defence of its interests) could have a dragging effect for the whole institution; unless that it is ‘demilitarised’ and fused with the Police. Another pattern of unionisation, yet less likely, since it could not be progressive, would be to authorise the direct affiliation of servicemen to existing civilian trade unions, which would limit the inevitable corporatist and pluralising effects derived from having multiple military unions. It remains that the declining rate of membership in the working world indicates that this form of unionism is losing ground amongst civilians today. In the end, should there be a need for some form of independent representation, be that a professional association or unions, it would require a wider liberalisation of the whole system of military rights and freedoms. Such a reform would require not only an acquiescent public opinion but also a strong political majority able to introduce it without risking its position. It would also require a lesser involvement of the armed forces in combat-oriented operations, as these missions are less easy to undertake and conduct in a unionised context. However, for the time being, the current hierarchical and consultative forms of representation appear to meet the needs of military personnel. For most the military remains a unique profession, distinct from civilian employment and for those serving in the French armed forces, unionisation is antithetical to this.
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Notes * The author wishes to thank Professor Marie-Noële Bonnes of the Social Science University of Toulouse, as well as the editors of the book for their assistance in editing the syntax of this chapter. 1 Greece is the only country in Europe to be in a situation similar to France. States authorising union and associative rights in their armed forces are the Scandinavian countries, those of Benelux and Germany. Spain, Italy and Portugal prohibit unions in the military but authorise associative modes for the protection of professional interests. In the United Kingdom, armed forces are prohibited from joining unions but may, under certain circumstances, join professional associations. 2 The military manpower level is now 347,169. 11 per cent are officers, 57.2 per cent NCOs and 32 per cent rank and file; 48.5 per cent are career personnel, 47.7 per cent are under contract, and 5.8 per cent are short service volunteers. Personnel under contract are 66.3 per cent of the Army and 58 per cent of the Navy; they represent all enlisted rank and file and 30.6 per cent of NCOs. Nearly half the personnel leave the ranks before 15 years of active service and 96 per cent of them were able to return to a civilian job. Moreover, the proportion of women (13.1 per cent in December 2004) is only second to that of the United States. Civilian personnel serving with the military are also important: in the Navy and the Army, it reaches 20 per cent. 3 Not only in partnership with other military, as in ex-Yugoslavia, but also in European forces, such as the Eurocorps or the Euroformar. 4 Modified 15 times, particularly with a Law of October 1975, and followed by nearly 40 governmental decrees (Roqueplo 2004). 5 This bill (Journal officiel, 26 mars 2005) was prepared by a Review Commission for the General Statute of Military Personnel (thereafter Review Commission), set up in December 2002 by the Head of State and the Minister of Defence. Composed of 13 civilian and military members of the Defence Ministry and three experts, the Commission was organised in five working groups associating various services and staffs in the military, notably from the High Council for the Military Function (see below). It has heard and interviewed more than 170 people and analysed the case of foreign countries. The Commission delivered its report (‘Rapport de la Commission de révision du Statut général des militaires’, thereafter ‘Rapport de la Commission…’) on 29 October 2003. 6 Actually the result of a civil–military ‘deal’ by which the military agreed to be kept out of the political life of the country in exchange for complete professional autonomy (Ralston 1967). 7 Instructions given by President Chirac to the Review Commission were clear in this regard. Before the Senate Committee of Foreign Affairs, National Defence and Armed Forces, the Minister of Defence has indicated that ‘the Bill did not constitute a “revolution” but did not limit itself to a simple renewal of existing rights’ (Dulait 2005: 119). This being said, on other issues, such as the protection and guarantees offered to military personnel particularly in operations in foreign countries, the new Statute is innovative. 8 The right for the military to vote and to be eligible has existed since the Revolution, and renewed with a March 1848 Law and the 1849 Electoral Code. For reasons linked with the stabilisation of the civil control of the military (see note 6), the Third Republic ended these rights. The 27 July 1872 Law abolished the right to vote and a series of Bills, 30 November 1875, 5 April and 9 December 1884, and 23 July 1891 forbade the military to be candidates at local and national elections (Charnay 1964). 9 If it had agreed that a party membership would not necessarily have an impact on behaviour on duty, it rather feared that parties would take advantage of the presence of military in their ranks (‘Rapport de la Commission…’ 2003: 6). 10 Though the Review Commission has noted how contradictory and illogical the prohibition to join a political party is, as is the case in many other countries, it did not
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11
12 13 14 15 16 17
18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25
26 27 28 29
recommend any change in this area, considering that the neutrality of members of the military ought be ‘above suspicion’ (‘Rapport de la Commission…’ 2003: 7). The Review Commission had considered the possibility for an active duty serviceman to run for an elective post in small constituencies, which would not be incompatible with the clause of neutrality. This idea, however, was not adopted (‘Rapport de la Commission…’ 2003: 8). As pointed out by an MP from the Left during the debate about the new Bill at the National Assembly on 14 December 2004. For details about that dubious legality (Bacchetta 2004; Charlier-Dagras 2003). The 1972 Statute stated simply that ‘the military condition requires in any circumstance, discipline, loyalism and sacrifice’. At the National Assembly on 14 December 2004. After having indicated that the right to join a political party did not correspond to any strong expectation in the military community. During his hearing before the Senate Committee for Foreign affairs, the Chair of the Review Commission has indicated that ‘Armed forces from Northern Europe, where the rights of the military are the most developed […] do not offer operational units comparable to the French and British ones’ (Dulait 2005: 116). For an ‘advantageous’ use of comparative analysis, see the Senate study (‘Les droits politiques et syndicaux des personnels militaires’ 2002). For example, the propositions by two leading experts in military issues for the Socialist party (Hernu and Marceau 1977: 129–54); see also (Mandeville 1997: 85–102). A look at the writings and editorials in the various military (official magazines or associations) bulletins during the last 15 years makes clear this expectation (Chauvancy 2004: 78–81). One of the most active associations in this domain, the Action Committee of Former and Career Military Personnel, which counts 150,000 members, declared in 1998 to be ‘fiercely opposed to the unionisation of armed forces’ (Bacchetta 2004: 177). In this regard, an author has evoked the idea of ‘a public service of the defence of subordinates’ interests’ (Lafitte 1975: 362). Several reports have pointed out these weaknesses and proposed elements of reform, for example (Grasset and Cova 2000); see also (Bacchetta 2004: 231–83). These issues will be dealt with in the forthcoming ‘application decrees’. It should be noted that the Review Commission has considered other solutions adopted in this domain by other countries, such as the Armed Forces Pay Review Body in England, the Ombudsman, and the Parliamentary Delegate as in Northern states or in Germany (‘Rapport de la Commission…’ 2003: 30–1). Lately, the recommendation (on rights to associate for servicemen) of 3 September 2002 by the Parliamentary Assembly of the European Council, and approved in July 2003 by the European Ministers Council. For an in-depth analysis of Army NCOs today (Pajon et al. 2004). An association named Gendarmes’ Wives Movement has claimed to be ‘unionists by proxy’. For instance, recently the reorganisation of the Police into three corps and the setting up of the ‘police of proximity’.
References Bacchetta, C. (2004) Quelle liberté d’expression professionnelle pour les militaires? Enjeux et perspectives. Paris: Economica. Charlier-Dagras, M.-D. (2003) ‘Vers le droit syndical des personnels militaires?’, Revue du droit public et de la science politique, No. 4, pp. 1073–1120.
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Charnay, J.-P. (1964) Société militaire et suffrage politique en France depuis 1789. Paris: SEVPEN. Chauvancy, F. (2004) ‘La liberté d’expression dans les armées d’aujourd’hui’, Les Cahiers de Mars, No. 179, pp. 78–81. Cours des Comptes (2004) Le maintien en condition opérationnelle des matériels des armées. Rapport au président de la République. Paris. Courtade, P. (2004) ‘Pour un devoir d’expression des militaires’, Défense nationale, July, pp. 131–44. Dieu, F. (2000) ‘Un syndicalisme dans la gendarmerie?’, Droit et défense, No. 2, pp. 76–9. Dulait, A. (2005) ‘Rapport fait au nom de la Commission des Affaires étrangères, de la Défense nationale et des Forces armées sur le projet de loi adopté par l’Assemblée nationale, portant statut général des militaires’, Documents Sénat (ordinary session 2004–2005), No. 154. Grasset, B. and Cova, C. (2000) ‘Rapport d’information déposé par la Commission de la Défense nationale et des Forces armées sur les actions destinées à renforcer le lien entre la nation et son armée’, Documents Assemblée nationale, No. 2490, June. Hernu, C. and Marceau, J. (1977) ‘Les structures représentatives de participation dans l’armée française’, Annales de l’Université des sciences sociales de Toulouse, Vol. 25, pp. 129–54. Hoffmann, G. (1995) ‘Un moral bon sous tous rapports’, Défense nationale, February, pp. 87–97. Lafitte, J. (1975) ‘La défense des intérêts militaires par leur chef: un nouveau service public?’, Revue administrative, No. 166, August, pp. 357–65. ‘Les droits politiques et syndicaux des personnels militaires’ (2002) Document de travail du Sénat (Série législation comparée), No. LC 105, May. Mandeville, L. (1977) ‘Le système militaire français et le syndicalisme: répression, tentations et solutions de substitution’, Annales de l’Université des sciences sociales de Toulouse, Vol. 25, pp. 85–102. Matelly, J.-H. (2004) ‘La libre censure des militaires’, Le Monde, 15 December, p. 22. Pajon, C., Thiéblemont, A. and Racaud, Y. (2004) ‘Le métier de sous-officier dans l’armée de terre aujourd’hui’, Les Documents du C2SD (centre d’études en sciences sociales de la défense), No. 60, May. Ralston, D. B. (1967) The Army of the Republic: The Place of the Military in the Political Evolution of France, 1871–1914. Cambridge, M.I.T. Press. ‘Rapport de la Commission de révision du statut général des militaires’ (2003), Paris, 29 October. Roqueplo, J. C. (2004) ‘Il y a trente ans: le Statut général des militaires (1972–1975)’, Défense nationale, No. 1, pp. 149–63. Sénéchal, M. (1964) Droits politiques et libertés des officiers des forces armées. Paris: Librairie générale de droit et de jurisprudence. Trucy, F. (1999) ‘Rapport d’information fait au nom de la Commission des Finances, du contrôle du budget et des comptes de la nation sur la professionnalisation des armées à mi-parcours’, Documents Sénat, No. 25, October. Vinçon, S. (1999) ‘Rapport d’information fait au nom de la Commission des Affaires étrangères, de la défense nationale et des forces armées sur les personnels de l’armée de terre face à la professionnalisation. Bilan d’étape’, Documents Sénat, No. 457.
5
Freedom of association and the Canadian forces Current status and future trends Kelly Farley, Rick Walker and Dan Mendoza
Unlike many militaries in Europe, the Canadian Forces (CF) have no union or representative association. Although two separate studies have shown that more than one-third of military members think positively about forming a union (Bradley and Charbonneau 2004; Deneumoustier 1971) there has traditionally been little movement toward any form of associationship within Canada’s military. While there is no formal ‘contract’ between the CF and the government of Canada, an informal social contract has appeared to be successful in maintaining the status quo. Critics of the social contract argue that the agreement is one-sided. Specifically, the responsibilities of the member to Canada are well defined in the National Defence Act and Queen’s Regulations and Orders, but there is ‘no such articulation of the responsibilities of the Government of Canada to the men and women of the CF’ (Milner 1998: 10). On the other hand, those in favour of the social contract argue that the nature of such an agreement is necessary to reinforce the philosophy of civilian control of the military in a liberal democracy such as Canada. While not contractual, there exists ‘a set of reciprocal expectations between the profession and society … in essence a moral commitment’ (Canadian Forces 2003: 44) that is based on principles including fair and equitable compensation, access to suitable accommodation, care and compensation to injured veterans and the provision of appropriate equipment commensurate with their tasking. Further, those in favour of the status quo point to constitutional safeguards such as the Canadian Charter of Rights and Freedoms that protect the rights of all citizens. In fact, the Charter sits prominently in the description of the Canadian military ethos (Canadian Forces 2003). This raises the question, however, that if such expectations and safeguards are sufficient to protect the rights of individual members, why do a significant proportion of members continue to believe some form of military association is a good idea? Clearly, the absence of a representative association or union in the CF is not due to any single policy of the government or military. Rather, the current status quo has resulted from a number of historical, cultural, legal and social psychological influences that can be traced back to the early 1960s. Although post-Cold War downsizing and restructuring initiatives have added new complexities to the question of association, these earlier events must also be considered to better
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understand the nature of the civil–military relationship in Canada today. It is the totality of this constellation of events that continues to construct our view of the CF and their role in Canadian society. The purpose of this chapter is to describe the background and the current status of the CF with respect to associationship. To this end, a short review of military associationship will help put the CF’s case in context and set the stage for a fuller discussion of civil–military relations in Canada. With this broader understanding as backdrop, the current position of mechanisms of voice and the attitudes of soldiers toward associationship will be examined. Organisational views toward associationship will also be considered in light of recent member activity. Finally, the chapter will conclude with a discussion of potential future trends.
MILITARY ASSOCIATIONSHIP Militaries with unions or representative associations have existed for some time. Since Norway established its association for military members in 1847, many other countries, mostly European, have followed this lead. In fact, the European Organisation for Military Associations (EUROMIL) now counts 29 military associations from 19 countries as members. Since the end of the Cold War, EUROMIL membership has expanded to include military associations from the former Soviet bloc such as the Russian Federation and the Czech Republic. In general, and for associations that formed in Europe during the nineteenth and first half of the twentieth centuries in particular, the pressure to unionise ‘derived from conscription and the fear that those drafted into national service would be mistreated by a conservative and hierarchical military system’ (Milner 1998: 30). However, this was not true in all cases. In Sweden, for example, initial pressure for unions came from the senior NCO corps and eventually led to unions for all rank categories including officers. The origin of the modern union for officers in Belgium was a result of the failure of the government of the day to act in support of the army during the difficult period of decolonisation in the late 1950s and 1960s. According to Milner (1998) Belgium is the only example of unionisation that approximates to the current situation in Canada. An examination of Canadian civil–military relations is necessary for a more fulsome appreciation of the current situation in the CF.
THE CASE OF CANADA: DEFINING THE CANADIAN MILITARY CONDITION
Post-World War II and Cold War period As Amos Perlmutter affirmed, military corporatism is the key to modern civil– military relations. The dilemma lies in the degree of corporatism that determines whether the military will intervene in politics and having that same corporatism
The Canadian forces 69 which preserves an Army, for example, as a fighting force (Perlmutter 1980: 72). Since the timeless Canadian challenge – defence against whom – remained unanswered, the Canadian military condition was not retained throughout the post-war and Cold War period as a fighting force, but as a government expression of other non-military imperatives. This unique Canadian worldview and penchant for quasimilitary innovation, was examined by James Eayrs in his critique, ‘Canada pioneering the single service’ in The Round Table in 1969: When armed forces are maintained, as Canada’s are maintained, not for defending the homeland but for some other reason – prestige, diplomatic influence, law and order at home – certain liberties may be taken with their organisation which might be rather too risky to take with forces meant for fighting. For others, armed forces are a necessity. For us, they are a kind of luxury. Armed forces kept for luxury may be designed differently from armed forces kept for necessity. (Eayrs 1969: 157) Throughout the 1950s and 1960s, remnants of the wartime military service elites continued to resist the government dilution of their professional responsibility for the security of the state, in what Bernard Baruch termed ‘the consignment of military men to the status of second class citizen in time of peace’. This emasculation and erosion of military professionalism was relentless, or as John Gellner observed, ‘There is no other country where the political masters are so unreasonably masterful towards the military as they are in Canada’ (Gellner 1961: 5). In order to subvert this perceived pernicious civilian influence, military officers exploited Cold War rearmament and shifted their ‘imperial’ loyalties from the bankrupt British Empire to the American Empire and its burgeoning militaryindustrial complex. Through a series of sub rosa, classified, and need to know only military to military agreements, Canadian general officers keenly put themselves, unbeknownst to civil authority, under American operational command within a variety of entangling NATO alliance commitments. This subterfuge was the essence of the confused government response to the Cuban missile crisis of 1962 and of the military being implicated in the subsequent fall of the John Diefenbaker government over the nuclear weapons issue in 1963. The replacement Liberal government under Lester B. Pearson, learned from this civil–military discontinuity and armed with his Nobel Peace Prize, he realigned Canada’s role in the NATO alliance to that of a non-fighting ‘helpful fixer’. By inventing peacekeeping, Lester B. Pearson created a cost-effective alternate source of international legitimacy, put in process a future exit strategy for a CF withdrawal from Europe and regained civil control over a CanadianAmerican military agenda teetering on the brink of a black hole of NATO military expenditures. Unlike other NATO allies revitalised by the Marshall Plan and whose militaries were being bankrolled by American money, Canada paid her full share. Unrestrained militarisation and social programmes were incompatible and, domestically, defence policy became a ‘guns and butter’ dilemma.
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Similarly, at this height of civil–military distrust, the Minister of National Defence, Paul Hellyer, was convinced that civilians within the defence establishment were disadvantaged and civilian control of the military was endangered by the influence of the Cold War generals. The rhetoric of his 1964 White Paper on Defence emphasised fiscal management in support of a programme of capital spending which never occurred. His real purpose was aimed at integrating the Armed Forces under a single Chief of the Defence Staff that ‘would permit an effective exercise of civilian control and, equally important, civilian direction in the carrying out of defence policy as laid down by the government’ (Byers 1972: 200). In rapid succession, the re-assertion of civil authority escalated as Hellyer initially introduced Bill C-90, which created the Office of the Chief of the Defence Staff and formalised the unified chain of command in the Armed Forces. He then quickly followed with Bill C-242 on 7 December 1966, for the unification of the three separate services into a single service. It was this document, The Canadian Forces Reorganization Act, which was passed by the imposition of closure in Parliament, which led to the ‘Admirals revolt’. This highly public and acrimonious protest against government policy served to reaffirm Departmental contentions on the need to bridle the military profession in Canada and confirm to many the maxim ‘that civil control of the military gives the civilian the right to be wrong’. Correspondingly, the logic of this unique Canadian civil–military innovation was never fully understood or completely accepted by those senior officers who chose not to resign. Consequently, the foundations and supporting structure of Unification were unsteady, prone to shifting organisational crises, and did not achieve the desired end of civil primacy. The degree of civilian control, which Hellyer failed to achieve through legislation, was instituted secretarially by the 1970 Management Review Group (MRG), which launched: a fundamental and comprehensive reorganisation of the higher management of defence … [and a] reconstituted deputy minister who would assume complete control of formulating defence policy, providing policy advice to government, and managing the department that was henceforth to include the Canadian Armed Forces. (Bland 1998: xviii) Notwithstanding the fact that the Department of National Defence and the Canadian Armed Forces are distinctive and legally separate entities under the National Defence Act, a hostile takeover merger, in the guise of a staged reorganisation, was executed as a ‘public service coup … to entrench the deputy minister in areas and with responsibilities that had hitherto been the preserve of military officers’ (Bland 1998: xviii). Supporting Departmental initiatives, such as the Task Force on the Review of Unification of the Canadian Forces, served to reinforce civilian constraint of military authority in what some senior military officers saw as a capricious appetite for the ‘civilianisation’ of the Armed Forces. The final erosion of military authority
The Canadian forces 71 was manifest in the insertion of civilians and civilian management practices directly into the military’s corporate command and control structure. Resistance to civilianisation faded as senior military leadership was co-opted into accepting career ‘comparability’ within a civil-service executive category. With careerism as a dominant theme within this new public service management culture, senior military officers rationalised their new management status, abrogated their leadership and advocacy responsibilities to their subordinates, and aligned their senior management functions with the controlling interests of the Department of National Defence. Unification, the empowerment of the Deputy Minister under the Management Review Group, and the civilianisation of senior leadership led to the absorption of the CF into the sphere of unchallenged civilian administrative ‘command’. Such is the present nature of the contemporary Canadian military condition. This non-military control of the CF is the evolutionary result of a conflicted civil–military history whereby the statesman felt compelled to hobble the political power of the soldier through the destruction of military corporateness – as defined by a shared sense of organic unity and a consciousness of themselves as a group apart from Canadian lay society. This military road to perdition was executed through two sequential processes that Samuel Huntington described as extirpation and transmutation (Huntington 1967: 155). In the process of extirpation, the military was stripped of its political voice and in a sustained policy against military values, military leadership was marginalised to the point where it existed as a conservative caste on the periphery of a dominantly liberal Canadian society. An unprecedented assertion of civilian control over the CF and a progressive transmutation of traditional command and control functions, refashioned along liberal lines, coalesced so that these now ‘civilianised’ functions lost their military character and military leadership transmuted into military management. The result is the marked primacy of the civilian bureaucrat over the denigrated military professional. The innovative Canadian approach to the traditional AngloWestern balance of civil–military friction was to eliminate it. This apparent lack of military corporatism, responsibility, and expertise, as defined by Huntington’s model of military professionalism, challenges the notion that there is any existent military profession or military elite in Canada (Huntington 1967: 8–10). In this dearth of leadership, responsibility, and advocacy, the question of who speaks for the soldier dates back, coincidentally, to March 1967 when the Liberal government of Lester B. Pearson approved passage of the Public Service Staff Relations Act. Of the 130,000 white-collar workers subsequently unionised under the Public Service Alliance of Canada (PSAC), the government exempted the CF and the Royal Canadian Mounted Police (RCMP). By March 1971, PSAC mounted a strong public campaign ‘to win a legislative amendment permitting collective bargaining for the Canadian Armed Forces’ (Deneumoustier 1971: 2). The formal PSAC overture to amend the Public Service Staff Relations Act was put to the government on 7 May 1971. In response to this union challenge and being aware that CF members felt underpaid, Treasury Board (TB) established the concept of civil–military
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comparability in pay and benefits. The comparability process, in concert with an inherent military distrust of unions, was sufficient to defuse the PSAC challenge to Departmental control of the Canadian military condition.
Post-Cold War period Yet, post-Cold War history indicates that Canadian military disquiet has not focused on a simple calculus of pay and benefits, no matter how comparable. In a letter to the Standing Committee on National Defence and Veterans Affairs (SCONDVA) Chairperson, dated 8 October 1997, the Minister of National Defence asked the Committee to ‘examine the unique nature of military service and to consider whether the existing people programs should be maintained or refocused’ (Canadian Forces 2001: Sec 4, 4–1). This request was in the nature of a basic re-examination of the social contract and a recommendation on the viability of shifting from an unwritten social contract, or implicit guarantee of governmental recognition, to a ‘broadly worded covenant between the government of Canada and members of the CF, in the form of a declaration regarding their unique contribution to Canada’ (Canadian Forces 2001: Sec 4, 4–1). In support of these SCONDVA deliberations, the Department of National Defence struck a special panel of five interdisciplinary academics, whose individual reports were all premised along the same lines. This common premise helps to set the context of these deliberations and the contemporary state of play in Canadian civil–military relations: … the traditional unwritten social contract between the government and the CF had broken down. Consequently, the CF has low morale, there is a sense of lack of government support, and members feel a sense of abandonment. In addition, members feel a lack of public recognition and respect. (Canadian Forces 2001: Sec 4, 4–2) The theme of a breakdown in social contract is reminiscent of the ‘incidents’, or more precisely, the mutinous incidents in 1949, which occurred on board HMC Ships Athabaskan, Crescent, and Magnificent. The conclusions drawn from the board of inquiry, or Mainguy Report, chaired by Rear-Admiral E. R. Mainguy, were linked directly to the issue of a lack of voice and recognition within the contemporary CF by a September 2000, Canadian Forces Focus Group session, on freedom of association. The group studied this precedent in detail and concluded, ‘The mutinies were the direct result of a breakdown in trust and respect among the hands, their leaders, and the Navy – in effect a breakdown of the “social contract” existing among them’ (Canadian Forces 2001: Sec 4, 4–8). This theme of a failed trust within an unsuccessful social contract was reaffirmed by the 1998 final SCONDVA report, which similarly concluded: … due to economic hardship, inadequate housing, an increase in high-risk operations, career stagnation, and a perceived lack of public support and recognition, the CF has low morale and a sense of abandonment by the
The Canadian forces 73 government and the public. Military personnel, particularly the lower ranks, feel they have become victims of broken trusts by government, CF leadership, and the public at large. (Canadian Forces 2001: Sec 4, 4–4) The significance of this revelation of broken trust was not so much that the committee re-examined the concept of a social contract but, that in doing so, they had initially considered and later rejected the option of associationship, while at the same time acknowledging its efficacy as an agency for voice. It was a determination premised ‘on the idea that it is too much to expect government to become interested or educated in military matters’. And that in the ‘absence of a broadly based national constituency for the CF, nothing it [SCONDVA] can do will save it from political opportunism, whereas unionisation or the formation of a professional association, can be used to gain a distinct and collective voice’ (Canadian Forces 2001: Sec 4, 4–3). The irony of the committee findings rests on the fact that they found it simply too difficult to articulate a specific statement of intent, or social contract, and that the status quo of ‘tacit understandings do not easily lend themselves to articulation, that the drafting of abstract statements was unlikely to help solve the immediate problems at hand’. Thus they rejected the call for the development of a written social contract. In lieu of grasping the nettle of voice and recognition, the committee took solace in the existent unwritten social contract, with its implicit guarantee of virtual associationship by the civil–military chain of command, and duly directed their 89 recommendations to the tangible ‘problems at hand’ grievances over pay and benefits. Much like Treasury Board’s use of comparability to stifle early union sentiment, the resultant Quality of Life strategy, and its numerous internalised and specialised input and feedback mechanisms that support it, remains essentially irrelevant to the issue of a lack of agency on behalf of military labour in conflict with civilian management. The SCONDVA recommendations encouraged the Department of National Defence to continue to view military personnel as human resource ‘capital’ in a paternalistic and professionally disempowering equilibrium; whereby the ‘processes’ of Quality of Life obscures the need for special status, and mechanisms of voice are mutely surrendered to senior officers in their capacity as executive resource managers. It is beyond the scope of this chapter to do justice to the hundreds of individual witnesses and numerous group perspectives that may have influenced the SCONDVA final report, but the testimony of Professor Gilles Paquet, Centre on Governance, University of Ottawa, was representative. Dr Paquet focused on the degree to which the government had ignored the concept of a social contract, and how without one neither the services nor the State could be held accountable. In his suggested modes of corrective governance, he identified the most dangerous option as to accept civilianisation and to relegate service members to the status of government employees: ‘In fact, there has even been talk of their unionising. At the end of the day, it’s reducing dramatically the role of the armed forces and the service, to an employment contract. I happen to believe that the danger of
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dealing only with the pay issues and welfare, and working condition issues in your debate is that you will dwarf the social contract to nothing more than an employment contract’. Similarly, he challenged the committee ‘to recognize that politicians have violated the old moral contract with the armed forces’, that the armed forces ‘… had a moral contract with the citizenry: they would take on the risky job of risking their lives for us. That’s the quo: the quid is that we give them resources that are at least going to help them minimize that risk’ (SCONDVA 1998: 1). The committee’s Quality of Life strategy ignores Paquet’s warnings, and only serves to mask the intangible root cause of military discontent by fixating on the tangible symptoms of the malaise. This perpetuates government denial that the 1970’s absorption of the command and control functions of the CF by the Department has produced an asymmetry in the authority and responsibility between the military officer and the civil servant. With no genuine authority over the state of the forces, senior military leadership can rationally accept their management function, abrogate any corporate leadership role, and decline any individual responsibility for the state of the armed forces. Subsequently, no one is left to speak for the service member. In his advocacy for a written social contract, Professor Marc Milner broke new ground in 1998 and shocked his senior officer audience with the clarity of his vision. He voiced a simple truth: … that whereas the service member is personally committed to unlimited liability, bound by sacred oaths to the Crown, and restrained from a right of association by the ‘Combinations Forbidden’ provisions of the National Defence Act; no similar oaths or acts bind any partisan politician to view or treat the armed forces differently from any other departmental adjunct. There is neither formal structure nor compunction to appreciate the military culture and ethos or to protect it from the ravages of bureaucratic neglect, institutionalized ignorance, or the ideological meddling and social engineering demanded by special interest groups. (Milner 1998) Dr Milner challenged senior leadership to accept the fact that notwithstanding the polling of supportive public sentiment, the armed forces do not presently enjoy a pride of place or occupy any special status within the governmental elites of this country. Similarly, changes in the strategic role of the armed forces, the paralysis of civilianisation, and the resulting dislocation from their fellow Canadians has left them marginalised from access to influence or government power. The armed forces, therefore, remains politically vulnerable to a long-standing liberal anti-military ideology, which never endorsed any such ‘covenant’, and subsequently, cannot be held to act in the best corporate interests of the three services. With senior military leadership assumed to have been co-opted, through comparability, to the executive management culture, Milner maintains that the only viable alternative to this progressive corporate demise is for the service member to seek, on his own behalf, a mechanism of voice and a written social contract
The Canadian forces 75 that can hold a government accountable. As we will see, the critical difference between Dr Milner’s 1998 analysis and the state of civil–military relations today is that his clarity of vision now permeates the most junior rank and file of the Canadian Forces. For want of representative leadership and in spite of the chequered history and image of unionisation in this country, there have been a few singular, disparate, and poorly structured attempts by service members to generate a grassroots uprising in support of associationship. In attempting to exploit official departmental mailing lists or networks to gain ready access to the potential membership, the Achilles’ heel of all such initiatives was found: these individuals were exposed to prosecution or career censure under a variety of articles of the Queen’s Regulations and Orders. A case in point is the impedimental nature of Article 19.10, ‘Combinations Forbidden’, which provides: No officer or non-commissioned member shall without authority: a)
combine with other members for the purpose of bringing about alterations in existing regulations for the Canadian Forces; b) sign with other members memorials, petitions, or applications relating to the Canadian Forces; c) and obtain or solicit signatures for memorials, petitions, or applications relating to the Canadian Forces. (Canadian Forces 2001: Annex I, 1–5) All lower rank efforts to create a military association have been, to date, stillborn. This is not to suggest that based on the watershed Supreme Court of Canada Delisle v. Canada decision, that a sophisticated cell of bureaucratically astute and politically acute ‘Young Turk’ or middle ranking officers could not learn from the South African experience and effectively turn the now exposed flank of the Department of National Defence. While conventional legal wisdom accepts that the Delisle ruling does not provide a right to form a specific type of labour association endowed with particularly statutory powers, it does, however, ‘guarantee’ the right to associate freely in independent organisations for the collective exercise of lawful individual rights and the protection to ensure that the Canadian Forces cannot legally prevent members from doing so. Without targeted survey results, it remains in the realm of conjecture as to which direction CF sentiment may migrate in pursuit of representative voice. What appears certain, is that the status quo of a failed social contract, long history of diminished government support, and dearth of representative leadership, as reflected in the careerism and civilianisation of a senior officer management culture, exasperates corporate dislocation as the root cause of dissatisfaction and continues to corrupt the military ethos within the CF. Since there is an apparent bias against unionism, in the North American tradition, and since the basic terms of employment, such as pay and benefits, are not a root cause of discontent, then the process of unionisation within the CF has no practical or viable future. Conversely, should an organisational structure coalesce, along the ‘Young Turk’
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model, and should that organisation ignite debate, which externally politicises defence policy while internally focusing, harnessing, and articulating the malaise amongst CF members, then, there is a strong possibility that a call for a representative association, as a viable alternative to unionism, could take root. The watershed nature of the Delisle ruling is that CF management has already conceded the liability of a member-centred movement towards associationship, and that this altered state of play is now, in their view, irrevocable. The two key features of this new state of play is first, that this right to associate encompasses the right to form a members’ association ‘independent’ of the chain of command. This new potential for advancing a military agenda through direct access to public opinion, as demonstrated throughout the history of Canadian civil–military relations, would inevitably politicise national defence policy. Second, there is as yet no ‘Young Turk’ or middle officer grade revolutionary catalyst looming on the horizon. This post-Delisle stasis now finds the Department of National Defence in a state of prophylactic anticipation of an emergent challenge to the status quo, and the persistent question of who speaks for the service member, within this civilianised management culture, unanswered. The military’s continuous pursuit of a public mechanism of voice, and the inexorable government pains to deny them the power of public opinion and the politicisation of defence policy, constitute the principal thematic continuity in the history of Canadian civil–military relations. Ironically, whereas government has institutionally decapitated military leadership, they are now faced with a disaffected rank and file, and a potentially politicised collective, with the growing selfrealisation that they are bereft of corporate representation. Should there emerge a well-orchestrated middle ranking officer or non-commissioned officer legal challenge to the status quo, the Canadian Forces may yet be made forcibly receptive to an association functioning outside of the chain of command and free to advance the concerns of its membership directly to both government and the power of public opinion. With the trust between Canadian Forces members and the state suspect and the social contract unrequited, the lack of a coherent mechanism of voice is clearly the most pressing, topical, emergent, and least understood or appreciated issue facing the Canadian Forces today.
MECHANISMS OF VOICE WITHIN THE CANADIAN FORCES Theoretically, the current status of mechanisms of voice in the CF can be seen as the result of a unitarist approach (e.g. Heinecken 2004) to labour relations on the part of management. According to Heinecken (2004), unitarists resist unionisation and the ‘response to collective employee dissatisfaction is to improve internal communication mechanisms, coupled with appeals for loyalty and where this fails, increased legal intervention by threatening legal sanction’ (p. 13). This unitarist approach has typically led to unsystematic and episodic changes to mechanisms of voice in the CF. There exists a complex web of complaint mechanisms, some with no relationship to one another, many with intricately limited
The Canadian forces 77 mandates, and most with no deadlines for the highest authorities to respond. The DND Ombudsman (2004) has attempted to simplify the situation for common CF members, but even this well-intentioned document appears overwhelming in content. For example, the Ombudsman (2004) lists 23 general areas of possible complaint and recommends that CF members contact or consult 50 different persons, offices, hotlines, websites, regulations, Acts of Parliament and other sources. The Ombudsman’s Frequently Asked Questions (FAQs) page stipulates that members can only contact the Ombudsman if the ‘circumstances are compelling’, and warns or infers that the Ombudsman cannot help at all in many cases. The hotlink to the word ‘compelling’ leads to another site that lists 18 Ministerial Directives and two appendices with a difficult to find and brief explanation appearing under a section entitled ‘Existing Mechanisms’, article 13, sub-para 2, sub-sub-para a to c. The centre of gravity for complaints still seems to be the highly adversarial Redress of Grievance system, in which members find themselves more or less alone facing the largest government department in Canada. The Ombudsman can only review and comment on the process, not any findings. The Ombudsman (2001) reported immediate problems and delays with the new ‘Streamlined System’ implemented 15 June 2000 and problems continue to the present (Ombudsman 2003). After delays at various stages of the process, the complainant finds that there is no time limit for the CDS to reply (it is really the Judge Advocate General who drafts the reply). Despite favourable recommendations by the CF Grievance Board, and after a very long wait, members still find that their grievance is often denied with limited reasons given and that their real issues of concern have not been addressed (Ombudsman 2003). The rank and file obviously are not aware of most of these problems, which are complex and cloaked in confidentiality. The result is that dissatisfaction accumulates in a predictable cycle that senior officers are always able to diffuse the tension just in time. The rank and file, understandably, do not have the information necessary to research and understand the actual processes behind the wave of apparent reform that followed SCONDVA. A valid social contract depends on both parties having adequate knowledge to understand the deal. This raises several questions regarding the relationship between power and knowledge and the effect this has on the right of association and the military ethos (Hoy 1986). But what is the extent of member dissatisfaction with senior leadership and the social contract in general? And what effect, if any, have these issues had on the attitudes of members toward some form of associationship?
CANADIAN FORCES MEMBERS’ DISSATISFACTION WITH SENIOR LEADERSHIP AND ATTITUDES TOWARD UNIONISATION Several recent CF attrition studies (e.g. Jenkins 2003a,b) point to a profound dissatisfaction with senior leadership among voluntary leavers. Over a two-year
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period (2001–2003) leaving members (1,109) were asked to reflect on the reasons that prompted them to voluntarily exit the CF. Of those reasons cited most often, almost three-quarters (73 per cent) responded that they were ‘tired of poor decision making and the associated misuse of limited CF resources’. A similar number (70 per cent) of members responded that they had ‘lost faith in the CF leadership’. Other reasons included dissatisfaction with postings (67 per cent), too much time away from home (62 per cent), no credit for job well done (59 per cent) and inadequate compensation (55 per cent). Given these findings, it appears that attempts by the CF to reform internal systems, including mechanisms of voice, have been hampered by a general and persistent dissatisfaction with senior leadership. Moreover, it is perhaps not surprising that a significant proportion of CF members have favourable attitudes toward some form of association or union. Interestingly, attitudes within the CF have remained impressively consistent since the early 1970s. For example, a survey study of 200 members across the CF found that, overall, one in three (35 per cent) supported the idea of a union for military members (Deneumoustier 1971). When broken down by rank, however, important trends appeared. Specifically, slightly more than one in five officers (22 per cent) supported the idea while about one in four (25 per cent) senior noncommissioned officers agreed with the same statement. Support among junior non-commissioned members was highest with over half (52 per cent) supporting the idea of unionisation. In a more recent survey that focused specifically on Army members, researchers found similar results (Bradley and Charbonneau 2004). Consistent with the previous CF research, about one-third (32 per cent) of all Army members agreed or strongly agreed that ‘a civilian-style union or some other type of professional organisation outside the chain-of-command’ was a good idea. Although the overall differences between ranks were less striking as compared to the earlier research, the trends were the same. For example, officers expressed the least support for the idea of a union (18 per cent) compared to senior non-commissioned officers (30 per cent) and junior non-commissioned members (33 per cent). On the face of it, support for unionisation appears to have declined among junior noncommissioned members. However, the more recent research included a ‘neither agree nor disagree’ option that was not available in the previous study (the 1971 study forced respondents to simply agree or disagree). Twenty-three per cent of junior non-commissioned members responded in this neutral category, which, if considered with the positive responses would bring the total ‘non-negative’ responses to 56 per cent – similar but slightly higher than the previous study (52 per cent). In summary, while not a majority across ranks, a significant proportion of members continue to express support for the idea of some kind of professional association or union. As might be expected, support tends to be highest among junior personnel compared to senior non-commissioned officers and officers. Given the plethora of reform activities and mechanisms of voice outlined earlier, one might expect that the desire for some form of unionisation would have diminished over the same period. Clearly, this is not the case.
The Canadian forces 79 One possible explanation could be that members feel overwhelmed with the complexity of options presented to them and are discouraged with delays and a perceived lack of positive outcomes for many of their friends who have engaged the system. Another explanation is more fundamental; there continues to exist a general dissatisfaction with, and lack of confidence in, the senior leadership and management of the CF. Perhaps in response to these issues, there have been at least two recent unsuccessful attempts by members to stimulate action toward some form of association. As these activities occurred about the same time as a Supreme Court of Canada ruling on a related issue for the Royal Canadian Mounted Police (RCMP), the CF, in true unitarist fashion, undertook a review of its policies toward associationship. Included in this review are five possible options for the CF regarding the question of freedom of association. This review will be considered next.
ORGANISATIONAL VIEWS TOWARD UNIONISATION IN THE CF The Supreme Court of Canada decision in the case of Delisle v. Canada (Deputy Attorney General, [1999] S.C.J. No. 43) although related to the RCMP, is important in that it has informed the thinking of policy makers within the CF. Briefly, the Delisle case concerned the collective bargaining rights in the RCMP. The Public Service Staff Relations Act (PSSRA) and the Canada Labour Code (CLC) exclude the RCMP from the collective bargaining process available to federal public servants. Delisle, an RCMP officer, challenged this as a violation of freedom of association rights under section 2 (d) of the Charter of Rights and Freedoms. The essence of the Delisle decision is that freedom of association, as guaranteed by the Charter does not provide a right to form a specific type of labour association endowed with particular statutory powers. Therefore, the exclusion of the RCMP from the provisions of the PSSRA is not a violation of the right of association. However, the Court ruled that the Charter guarantees the right to associate freely in independent organisations for the collective exercise of lawful individual rights. As the CF are also excluded from the PSSRA and CLC, the Director Military Gender Integration and Employment Equity (DMGIEE) was tasked to determine the implications of the decision for the CF. Extrapolating the decision to the specific context of the CF, DMGIEE concluded that: • • • •
CF members clearly do not have the right to form a union as such in the sense of a certified entity having the right to bargain collectively. CF members do not have a right to strike or withhold services. CF can likely not prevent its members from associating together to exercise their lawful individual rights in a collective fashion. The right to associate appears to encompass a right to for CF member associations for legal purposes, independent of the chain of command and exercising a representative function.
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•
Any rules that prohibit or restrict the formation of CF associations, or that impose sanctions on those who participate therein, would be suspect and would have to be justified under s. 1 of the Charter. To the extent that CF members are free to associate, this requires no more on the part of the CF other than non-interference. There is no obligation or requirement on the CF to help establish, promote, facilitate, or affirmatively recognise member associations.
•
DMGIEE went further to provide a range of five options for consideration by senior leadership: • • • • •
Prohibited – Prohibit representative associations within the CF. Regulatory – Allow formation of representative associations under regulations and guidelines specified by the CF. Facilitative – Proactive approach whereby CF would take initiative and develop a framework that allows CF member input on conditions of service and compensation. Permissive – Hands-off, non-interference in the formation of representative associations, with any recognition at managerial discretion. Unionisation – Legislative approach that amends exception of the CF under the PSSRA. (Canadian Forces 2001)
In summary, the CF has recently considered the current legal status and potential options surrounding the freedom of association issue. DMGIEE concluded that unionisation of military members under the current legal framework is not a right that can be claimed under the Charter. DMGIEE adds, however, that the ‘CF can likely not prevent its members from associating together to exercise their lawful individual rights in a collective fashion’ (Canadian Forces 2001). DMGIEE’s consideration of options includes a range of organisational policies that include prohibition to unionisation. Although neither of these two extremes appear reasonable in the current context of the CF, any chosen option or combination of options will need to be considered and endorsed by Armed Forces Council (AFC). At the time of writing, AFC has yet to review the DMGIEE report.
SUMMARY AND DISCUSSION In this chapter we have argued that the current status of freedom of association in the CF is a result of a variety of historical, cultural, legal and social psychological influences. Moreover, these forces have continued to construct our views of the CF and their role in Canadian society. We have argued that, unlike other Anglo-Western countries, Canada has never seen itself as an important military power. Although Canadians have answered the
The Canadian forces 81 call to war many times, the existence of a military elite in Canadian society, if it ever existed, was permanently exorcised with the ‘civilianisation’ process of the CF beginning early in the 1960s. It is surprising then, in the absence of a military elite in Canadian society, that some form of military union or representative association has never emerged. Rather, an informal social contract between the CF, the government and Canadian society continues to define the roles for each. Although generally more respectful of authority than Canadian society at large, CF members reflect fairly closely the values and attitudes of the dominant culture. Perhaps this characteristic more than any other explains the current status quo. Respect for authority in a society that tends to minimise the importance of the military in the state’s affairs has created a military that values compliance over confrontation. The fact that CF members have not taken serious action toward any form of associationship supports this observation. This is especially telling in light of a consistent and profound dissatisfaction with senior leadership. The range of options for some form of representative association was outlined. These options have been examined by staff at NDHQ, but have yet to be considered by the Armed Forces Council. Given the present CF context described in this chapter, it is unlikely that formal trade unionisation will be embraced by the senior leadership or even a majority of CF members across ranks. That said, the continued dissatisfaction with leadership and the disjointed nature of mechanisms of voice will likely shape the military discourse toward some form of increased representation in the future. Whether this discourse will lead to a new social contract between CF members and those they serve remains to be seen.
References Bland, D. L. (ed.) (1998) Canada’s National Defence, Volume 2: Defence Organization. Kingston: School of Policy Studies, Queen’s University. Bradley, J. P. and Charbonneau, D. (2004) The Army Culture-Climate Survey: Preliminary Results. Consultant Report. The Royal Military College of Canada. Kingston, ON. Byers, R. B. (1972) ‘Canadian civil-military relations and reorganization of the armed forces: whither civilian control?’ in: Hector J. Massey (ed.) (1972) The Canadian Military: A Profile. Toronto: York University Press. Canadian Forces (2001) Freedom of Association Policy Review Briefing Package. Directorate of Military Gender Integration and Employment Equity. Ottawa, ON. ——— (2003) Duty with Honour: The Profession of Arms in Canada. Canadian Defence Academy, Canadian Forces Leadership Institute, Kingston ON. Committee’s Final Report (2000) Minister’s Monitoring Committee on Change in the Department of National Defence and the Canadian Forces, Final Report – 1999, ‘The Minister’s Reform Program: Canada’s Military at a Crossroads’, Part One. Available HTTP: (accessed 21 June 2004). Deneumoustier, E. (1971) ‘Union or no?’ A research paper on personal attitudes towards unionization of the Canadian Armed Forces. Canadian Forces College, Toronto, ON. Eayrs, J. (1969) ‘Canada Pioneers the Single Service’, The Round Table, Vol. 59: 149–59. Gellner, J. (1961) ‘Canadian national defence policy’, Canadian Commentator, Vol. 5, No. 4: 3–5.
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Heinecken, L. (2004) South Africa: Ten Years of Military Unionism. A paper presented at the International Sociological Association, RC 01 on Armed Forces and Conflict Resolution. Ankara, Turkey, July. Huntington, S. P. (1967) The Soldier and the State: The Theory and Politics of CivilMilitary Relations. Cambridge: Harvard University Press. Hoy, D. C. (1986) ‘Power, repression, progress: Foucault, Lukes, and the Frankfurt School’, in: David Couzens Hoy (ed.) Foucault: A Critical Reader. Oxford: Basil Blackwell. Jenkins, B. A. (2003a) Voluntary Attrition from the Canadian Forces: Quantitative Analysis of Data from the Revised Canadian Attrition Information Questionnaire (CFAIQ-R). Sponsor Research Report 2003–14. Director Human Resources Research and Evaluation, Ottawa, ON. Jenkins, B. A. (2003b) Voluntary Attrition from the Canadian Forces: Qualitative Analysis of Data from the Revised Canadian Attrition Information Questionnaire (CFAIQ-R). Sponsor Research Report 2003–15. Director Human Resources Research and Evaluation, Ottawa, ON. Milner, J. M. (1998) A Proposal for a New Social Contract for the Canadian Armed Forces. Paper presented at the Tactics Seminar for the Combat Training Centre Gagetown, Oromocto, NB. Ombudsman (2001) Ombudsman Annual Report for 2000–2001. Available HTTP: (accessed 22 June 2004). ——— (2003) Ombudsman Annual Report for 2002–2003. Available HTTP: (accessed 22 June 2004). ——— (2004) See the FAQs section of the Ombudsman, National Defence and Canadian Forces website. Available HTTP: (accessed 22 June 2004). Perlmutter, A. and Bennett, V. P. (eds) (1980) The Political Influence of the Military. New Haven, CT: Yale University Press. SCONDVA (1998) Report by the Parliament’s Standing Committee On National Defence and Veteran Affairs. Transcript of recorded testimony Professor Gilles Paquet, 12 March 1998, p. 1. Available HTTP: (accessed 22 June, 2004).
Part II
Countries recently unionised
6
South Africa Facing the challenge of military unionism Lindy Heinecken
INTRODUCTION For the South African armed forces, the post-Cold War era has truly been an era of uncertainty and change. Unlike many other Western armed forces, they had to adapt not only to a new strategic environment, but to a new political dispensation that affected almost every facet of their being. Consequently, the 1990s witnessed a period of radical transformation where the newly formed South African National Defence Force (SANDF) grappled with ways to bridge the gaps between the demands placed on it by the security environment, its allocated financial resources, and last, but by no means least, the need to adhere to the principles spelt out in the new Constitution of the Republic of South Africa (hereafter Constitution). With the formation of the new South African Defence Force (SANDF), which came into being on the eve of 27 April 1994, the first requirement was to restructure the forces away from the pre-1994 all-white conscription, to an allvolunteer force based on the imperatives outlined in the Constitution, White Paper on Defence and Defence Review. Coupled to this were other political imperatives, including the need to integrate seven former enemies into one cohesive force and the necessity to implement an affirmative action plan to correct past racial imbalances. Then, came the need to adapt its policies and practices to meet the democratic imperatives spelt out in the Constitution. The impact of these systemic influences, together with the uncertainty created by the transformation process, created much tension among military personnel. The lack of sensitivity to the impact these changes had and the perceived inability to influence decisions affecting their conditions of employment, led to the need for some form of collective representation. Without doubt, one of the most contentious issues was the pressure exerted on the SANDF, even before 1994, to amend its labour relations mechanisms for uniformed personnel to address these rising aspirations. While defence legislation prevented soldiers from unionising, the Constitution provided the legal sanction to challenge these regulations in terms of their right to freedom of association. Despite vehement resistance, the SANDF eventually had to concede to this right when it lost the case in the Constitutional Court in 1998 (O’Regan 1998).
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Even so, the shock of having to deal with trade unions within its ranks and to bargain with the unions over ‘all matters of mutual interest’ has not been without resistance. For the past decade, employee relations within the SANDF has been marked by hostile confrontation between the union and military leadership. Against this brief background, this chapter looks at some of the factors that facilitated the development of military unionism in South Africa. Hereafter, an account is given of the challenges the military faced in trying to gain recognition, as well as the ‘issues’ it placed on the bargaining table. The response of military leadership to the presence of the union is discussed, highlighting the numerous court battles and the confrontational stance that has been adopted towards employee relations in the SANDF. Before doing so, it is necessary to place into context some of the factors peculiar to the South African situation which created the mood to unionise.
THE IMPACT OF TRANSFORMATION With the realisation that there was no conceivable prospect of an external threat to the country, the SANDF faced the dilemma not necessarily of justifying its existence, but certainly its expenditure and future role in society. During this period, the defence, as part of the government budget, declined from a peak of 3.7 per cent in 1989 to 1.7 per cent in 2002. This marked a drop of close to 57 per cent in defence expenditure between 1990 and 1999 (Kane-Berman 2003: 460). This prompted radical transformation of both the nature and structure of the armed forces to ensure greater cost-effectiveness and flexibility, as the SANDF came to assume a growing responsibility for peace and stability in the region. As with most Western nations, this involved not only organisational but also force restructuring – all of which impact to a greater or lesser extent on personnel and military worklife. Even before the formation of the SANDF, a process was underway to demobilise and disband those units no longer required and to align all operational and support processes to reduce duplication of defence activities. The restructuring process has focused on inter-service cooperation and ‘jointness’ wherever possible in terms of management, logistics, command, support, training and deployment (DOD 2002: 6). Many posts were civilianised and those support functions peripheral to the forces outsourced. In terms of force structure, the first requirement was to restructure the forces way from the pre-1994 defence dispensation based on all-white male conscription, to an all-volunteer force representative of the broader society. This marked the beginning of a new era for the South African armed forces, as it was not merely a shift to a volunteer system, but a new Defence Force consisting of seven different armed forces from diverse ethnic, political and military origins.1 Although the integration process is now complete, this does not imply that the SANDF is a ‘unified force’. The past decade has seen numerous reports on racism and tension within the ranks, prompting a ministerial investigation into the integration process (Dube and Gifford 1999: 1–2; Setai Commission 2001).
South Africa 87 With integration came another problem. While armed forces across the Western world faced massive downsizing, the ranks of the SANDF swelled to an all-time high of 101,353 by 1996. As Seegers (1996: 280) points out ‘the SANDF encountered two big problems simultaneously, integration and a desperate popular need for employment’. Rationalisation would inevitably be met with some form of collective resistance in a labour market where unemployment was over 30 per cent. This soon became evident when labour unrest surfaced among the predominantly black uniformed members during the integration phase at the Wallmannstal assembly point in 1994. In another incident, a group of short-term service members from the former Azanian People’s Liberation Army (APLA), Umkhonto we Sizwe (MK) and South African Defence Force (SADF) marched up to the Union Buildings in September 1995 against the termination of their contracts and to bring their grievances to the attention of the then President, Nelson Mandela. As the right to protest was denied to soldiers in accordance with defence regulations, these soldiers were charged with mutiny, but later released on bail after the intervention of the ‘unrecognised’ South African National Defence Union (SANDU). This was the first major ‘labour’ incident by military personnel, but immediately alerted the SANDF to the problems, especially as many former African National Congress (ANC) Umkhonto we Sizwe (MK) freedom fighters, were employed on short-term contracts. However, with personnel costs consuming up to 52 per cent of the defence budget, it was imperative that the SANDF downsize its forces to acceptable levels. Up to the present, downsizing has taken place through natural attrition, retirement, non-renewal of contracts, voluntary severance packages (VSPs) and more recently, employer initiated packages (EIPs). This has been a relatively painless process to date, but has not managed to reduce the force levels down to the projected Defence Review guideline of 70,000 (DOD 1998: 124). On 15 February 2005, the full-time component consisted of 60,212 military personnel and 15,102 civilian employees, in total 75,314 (DOD 2005). There have been proposals to cut personnel further to around 65,000 (including civilians) in order to free funds for equipment, and this may mean the retrenchment of some 10,000 personnel (Honey 2002: 28–9). Towards the end of the 1990s, it became obvious that the Flexible Service System, where people were employed on short, medium and long-term contracts, needed to be revised and replaced with a system with enforceable exit mechanisms to hasten downsizing and rightsizing. This prompted a revision of the SANDF’s service system and the introduction of a more stringent contract system, based on the understanding that life-long employment is no longer a given and that personnel need to prepare for possible careers in civilian society. The philosophy behind this approach is to develop an institutional culture and occupational ethos that discards the ‘cradle to grave’ employment ethos, in favour of a more transitional system whereby personnel complete an optimal stint of military duty, followed by a meaningful career in civilian society (DOD 2003: 30). All these changes impacted on the number of available posts, career paths and promotion possibilities for military personnel. This, together with the political
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pressures emanating from the need to conform to imperatives spelt out in the Constitution and Bill of Rights, provided the impetus for military unionism.
FACTORS FACILITATING MILITARY UNIONISM When the debate on military unions emerged in Western Europe in the 1970s, Harries-Jenkins pointed out that ‘there must not only be a motive/need to unionise, but also the mood to unionise, the opportunity to unionise and a national political culture receptive to military unions’ (Harries-Jenkins 1977: 60–9). Manley et al. (1977: 106–14) also identified certain forces that either restrain or advance the development of military unions. These included a belief that the union can be effective; if the rest of the public sector had labour rights; if there was public antipathy towards unions; if there is a growing rights based culture within society and certain legal provisions facilitating the development of unions. When analysing these factors in South Africa, everything pointed to the inevitable emergence of unions within the military. In terms of the classic motive for unionisation, declining service conditions, insecurity over tenure of employment, changing conditions of employment, and declining career prospects, provided clear motives (Heinecken 1995: 12–22). For example, there was a decline in service benefits with respect to duty buses, housing subsidies, study incentive schemes, military accommodation tariffs and sport allowances (Heinecken 1997a: 50). Added to this was the perception that the chain of command could no longer be relied upon to protect their interests. Exacerbating the situation was the fact that existing grievance procedures were (and remain) inadequate, augmenting the need for a union. The Department of Defence (DOD) acknowledged that its mechanisms to address and lodge grievances and complaints are inefficient and that there is no means to monitor the process (DOD 2003: 27). In addition, there were no other ‘effective’ mechanisms through which uniformed members could articulate, or bargain for their own institutional needs. There is no specific Pay Review Board for military personnel, no independent lobby or veterans association, and no military ombudsman in South Africa. Therefore, it is not surprising that in a survey conducted among officers of all rank groups as early as 1995, 86 per cent supported ‘the need to have some representation on pay and promotion issues directly at the highest level’. The overwhelming majority, 72 per cent, stated that ‘as long as it does not harm discipline an independent representative association (not a trade union) is a good idea’. However, almost 50 per cent supported the idea that ‘the SANDF needs a more effective collective bargaining structure (such as a military trade union) to protect the interests of uniform members’. This was largely due to the perception (only 11 per cent agreed) that ‘their interests were well looked after by the respective headquarters and staff divisions’ (Heinecken 1997a: 48). The ‘mood’ to have a union for soldiers gained momentum as both civilians in the DOD, members of the Correctional (Prison) Services and Police started to
South Africa 89 belong to unions. Prior to 1993, civilians could only legally belong to personnel associations. As these associations only had consultative and not collective bargaining rights, their effectiveness was limited. Rising labour unrest and growing support for trade unions eventually led to their acceptance. The Public Service Labour Relations Act 102 of 1993, initially excluding the police, was eventually extended to everyone, except uniformed members of the SANDF. Following the decree of the International Labour Organisation Convention No. 87 of 1948, on freedom of association and protection of the right to organise, the SANDF was left to create its own labour relations regulations. Following this, the new Labour Relations Act (LRA) 66 of 1995 was passed, granting labour rights to every sector of the labour market including civilians employed in the DOD and the police. Only members of the South African National Defence Force, the National Intelligence Agency and the South African Secret Service were excluded from the ambit of the LRA. The spillover effect to members of the SANDF was inevitable, especially as many now serving in the SANDF came from underprivileged background and had experienced the benefits of trade unionism. Caforio and Nuciari (1994: 49) found that pro-union attitudes were strongly linked to social origins. If prior to the employment in the military the soldier had benefited from being a member of a union, and/or their parents were perceived to have done so, they were more supportive of civilian type unions. The political climate was also receptive to military unionism. Opinion polls pointed to a certain acceptance by the broader public, especially among the majority black population, that military personnel should have labour rights. A survey carried out by the Human Sciences Research Council and Institute for Defence Policy in June 1995 showed that 45 per cent of all respondents supported the contention that members of the SANDF should be allowed to belong to trade unions. The greatest support come from black African respondents (73 per cent), the least support from whites (52 per cent). However, most rejected the idea that soldiers should have the right to strike (Schutte and Sass 1995 (48–55)). The opportunity to transform this motive and mood to unionise into reality came with the acceptance of the new Constitution for the Republic of South Africa. Both the Interim Constitution of the Republic of South Africa, Act 200 of 1994 and the final Constitution Act 108 of 1996, stated that: Freedom of association: Sec 18 ‘everyone has the freedom of association’. Labour relations: Sec 23 (1) that ‘everyone has the right to fair labour practices, (2) Every worker has the right (a) to form and join a trade union, (b) to participate in the activities and programmes of a trade union; and (c) to strike’. Limitation of Rights: These rights may be limited by Sec 36 (1) in terms of a law of general application to the extent that the limitation is reasonable and justifiable in an open and democratic society based on human dignity, equality and freedom, taking into account all relevant factors including (a) the nature of the right; (b) the importance of the purpose of the limitation; (c) the nature
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The onus was now on the military to justify that any restriction on trade union rights, such as those imposed in Section 126 of the amended Defence Act, meet the abovementioned criteria if it was to withstand a challenge in the Constitutional Court (CC). With this, a group of South African Air Force personnel officers who had attended a labour relations course at the University of Pretoria, began to moot the idea of a union for military personnel. While initially they thought military leadership was receptive to the idea, it became clear when some of the founding members were threatened with prosecution in terms of the Defence Act, that someone needed to start the union from the outside (Political Staff 1994: 1). RESISTING MILITARY UNIONS This led to the establishment of the South African National Defence Union (SANDU) on 26 August 1994. The issues it planned to take up with military leadership included equal opportunities for women with respect to housing subsidies, pensions, medical aid and tax, the retrenchment of about 30,000 members due to integration, one-sided decisions which resulted in the erosion of numerous service benefits and decisions to couple market-related prices to state-owned housing (Friedman 1994: 3). At the time, the SANDF was under no obligation to recognise SANDU as the exclusion of military personnel under the LRA, and an amendment to the Defence Act, 44 of 1956 in September 1993 prohibited uniformed members from forming or joining a union. The legal impediment prohibiting military personnel from belonging to unions in the Defence Act was as follows: Section 126B (1) A member of the Permanent Force shall not be or become a member of any trade union (italics added) as defined in section 1 of the Labour Relations Act of 1956:2 Provided that this provision shall not preclude any member of such a Force from being or becoming a member of any professional or vocational institute, society, association or like body approved by the Minister. Section 126B (2) furthermore states that ‘a member of the SADF who is subject to the said Military Disciplinary Code (MDC), shall not strike or perform any act of public protest or participate in any strike or act of public protest (italics added) or conspire with or incite or encourage, instigate or command any other person (whether or not such person is a member of the SADF or an officer or employee referred to in section 83A(2) serving in the SADF or a member of any auxiliary or nursing service established under this Act) to strike or to perform such an act or to participate in a strike or such an act. (Defence Act 44 1956)
South Africa 91 Section 126C goes on to specify that ‘any member of the permanent force shall exercise his rights with respect to labour matters in terms of the regulations, and that the State as his employer shall handle and administer all such matters, including the resolution of disputes in accordance with the regulations’. The effect of the above provisions was clear. No person in uniform could belong to any trade union, strike or participate in the activities of a union, and all labour matters would be regulated according to internal defence regulations (Heinecken 1995: 12–13). Besides this, the SANDF was resolute not to recognise any union for military personnel as expressed by Lt-Gen Reg Otto, then Chief of the SA Army: The SANDF and, by implication the SA Army, does not recognise any trade union or person claiming to represent leaders of any trade union. The SA Army has very clear command channels to handle grievances. No alternative channel exists. The SA Army will not be burdened with trade union activities like other institutions … Please don’t cross swords with the SA Army. We will not be dictated to by any labour union or any of its officials. Peace and stability are our concern and it cannot be achieved with bad discipline or the interference of outside institutions. (Weekend Argus Correspondent: 1995: 11) Similar sentiments were expressed by Gen Johan Pretorius, who succeeded Otto as Chief of the SA Army: Whoever is promoting the idea of a union for soldiers, is not only encouraging soldiers to commit an illegal act, but is also doing a disservice to our country. Unions were undesirable because mass strikes and mutinies would undermine the operational readiness of the armed forces, unions will politicise the forces and divide the rank and file along institutional lines. (Pretorius 1995: 21) The SANDF’s concern was that trade unions would politicise the military, create division within the ranks along racial lines and would undermine operational effectiveness (Heinecken 1997b: 23–6). Military leadership also felt that the wrong perception was being created, namely that military leadership was not looking after the interests of soldiers. The feeling was that SANDU was exploiting soldiers’ vulnerabilities at a time when the SANDF faced enormous challenges. The SANDF’s sentiment was, that if it is true that the existing grievances channels are inadequate, that alternatives would be looked into, hence the creation of the Forum structure (DOD 1994). Realising that the pressure for some form of collective representation was mounting, the SANDF introduced an internal communication structure to deal with individual and collective grievances, complaints or suggestions. These ‘Forums’ for respective rank groups came into effect in 1995, after an increase in labour unrest among soldiers, but did little to parry the union challenge. Yet
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surveys conducted in 1995 by Section Effect Analysis throughout the SANDF confirmed that over 50 per cent would join a union if such a union existed (or was legal) (Meiring 1995: 5). The Forums never really got of the ground, primarily because there was no dispute resolution mechanism built into the appeals process. During this early period the union fought an uphill battle to recruit members. SANDU members reported that they were victimised for promoting the union and that union application forms were being destroyed at unit level (Potgieter 1994: 6). At 4 SA Infantry Battalion, military personnel were forced to sign documents waiving their constitutional right of freedom of association, and special orders were issued that members would be prosecuted if they continued with union activities (Perkins 1997: 10). Of interest, is that no member was ever charged in terms of Section 126B as this would have lent urgency to SANDU’s pending court case, and would have given the union untold publicity. SANDU thought their final break had come when an invitation was received from President Nelson Mandela on 6 April 1995 to discuss the grievances of soldiers after a protest by soldiers at the Lenz military base against the termination of their short-term contracts. However, their hopes of support were dashed shortly after this meeting. In a letter to Mr Cor van Niekerk of SANDU, President Nelson Mandela stated that he could not repeal Section 126B of the Defence Act because: … the Defence Force is a critically important institution in our country, on whose shoulders the stability and security to the transition to a democracy rests. Unlike other employees, the uniformed soldier has access to arms and even sophisticated weapons of mass destruction. (Mandela 1995) This showed that while the President was sensitive to needs of soldiers, there was parliamentary antipathy towards it. If anyone knew the power and influence of trade unions, the newly elected African National Congress (ANC) government, which came into power on the back of the labour movement, did. However, the fact that someone of President Mandela’s stature took the time to listen to this ‘unrecognised’ union’s plight, afforded SANDU a certain legitimacy.
FIGHTING FOR RECOGNITION Having exhausted all viable alternatives to obtain ‘legal’ recognition, SANDU turned to the Constitutional Court (CC) in August 1995 to declare Section 126B of the Defence Act inconsistent with the Constitution in terms of the provisions pertaining to freedom of association and fair labour practices. The first attempt failed on the matter of technicality, as the union took the matter directly to the CC instead of referring it to the Supreme Court (now High Court), for referral to the CC. This granted the SANDF some reprieve to prepare their case, and to promulgate regulations pertaining to the resolution of disputes in terms of Section 126C
South Africa 93 of the Defence Act (De Klerk 1995). The Defence Force argued that it needed more time given the challenges of integration and to examine international precedents on trade unionism in order to establish regulations for the conduct of labour relations. No such regulations were ever promulgated and with growing impatience SANDU became increasingly assertive, even threatening industrial action. After the lengthy legal delay caused by the SANDF’s inability to promulgate labour relations regulations for uniformed personnel, SANDU eventually succeeded in getting their case heard in the CC in November 1998 (O’Regan 1998). In the final ruling on 26 May 1999 the CC ruled in favour of members being allowed the freedom of association to join trade unions and the right to participate in public protest as a fundamental right of freedom of expression (O’Regan 1998). The SANDF contested the case, stating that members of the Permanent Force were not workers under Section 23 of the Constitution. The CC rejected this argument on grounds that the International Labour Organisation’s interpretation of the term worker extended to the armed forces. Furthermore, that the limitations placed on the rights of uniformed personnel in the Defence Act went beyond what is reasonable and justifiable to achieve the legitimate state objective of a disciplined military force. Finally, the CC ordered the Minister of Defence to promulgate labour regulations consistent with the constitutional rights of members of the Defence Force within three months (O’Regan 1998).
ACCOMMODATING MILITARY UNIONS This led to the promulgation of Chapter 20 of the General Regulations for the SANDF in the Government Gazette of 20 August 1999 (hereafter the General Regulations).3 These General Regulations provided, among others, for the organisational rights of military trade unions (MTUs), rights of trade union representatives, deduction of subscriptions and levies, access to DOD premises, registration of MTUs, the establishment of a Military Bargaining Council (MBC), Military Arbitration Board (MAB) and the procedures to refer matters to the High Court in case of disputes. Incidentally, SANDU was excluded from the drafting committee and their submission prior to the promulgation of the regulations was not taken into consideration (Van Niekerk 1999). Nonetheless, the General Regulations provided the opportunity for military personnel to legally belong to unions. SANDU met the 5,000 threshold requirement for registration and 15,000 requirement for recognition to serve on the MBC. SANDU was formally registered on 30 June 2000, but other unions soon emerged, namely the Military Trade Union of South Africa (MTUSA), the South African National Union of Soldiers (SANUS), and the South African Security Forces Union (SASFU). Of the three, only SASFU met the registration criteria of 5,000. SASFU emerged as an opposition union to SANDU, representing primarily members from former Umkhonto we Sizwe. The concern was raised that this
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would divide military trade unions along racial and political lines, but this has not been the case.4 SASFU has remained a relatively weak military union, although it has backed SANDU in some of its undertakings, such as the Restructuring and Transformation Process (TRP) for the wider public service, where SANDU challenged the unilateral implementation of this policy. Being the only recognised union SANDU met the SANDF as ‘employer’ on the MBC for the first time in October 2000. This marked the beginning of a new era in the management of employee relations in the SANDF, but was tainted by clear antagonism from both sides. The meetings were tense, especially when it came to the new staffing policy, which SANDU believed led to grossly unfair labour practices. Other contentious issues included the deduction of sport and regimental fees from members’ salaries, voluntary severance packages, non-statutory force pensions, the merit award system, problems with the grievance procedure, courts martial, notch increases and some of the provisions in the General Regulations (Du Plessis 2001b). In the subsequent meetings of the MBC in 2001, growing tension emerged between the parties and SANDU became increasingly frustrated with the delays in terms of the implementation and resolution of disputes. Judging from the minutes, it is clear that the bargaining process was hampered not only by power struggles between the parties themselves, but decision-makers outside the MBC, namely the Secretary of Defence who was seen by the union as ‘interfering with the responsibilities and obligations of the Chief of the SANDF’ and the Minister of Defence, in terms of ratifying certain decisions and the functioning of the MAB (Du Plessis 2001a). On 29 August 2001, the Joint Standing Committee on Defence received a briefing on the military trade unions by the SANDF. At this meeting, the SANDF voiced its objection to the ‘insistence of SANDU to be involved in managerial matters, the militant stance of the union, the use of the media to discredit individuals and the tabling of issues, such as pensions, which is not a matter for negotiations. The meeting portrayed the sentiment that the military unions were dangerous (Department of Defence 2001). The Minister of Defence, owing to alleged threats by SANDU to strike, suspended the activities of the Military Bargaining Council during September 2001, effectively ending the collective bargaining process as it pertained to uniformed members. With negotiations at an impasse, approximately 1,000 SANDU members took part in a protest march on 31 January 2002, expressing their dissatisfaction with the DOD’s disregard for the General Regulations and the ‘unfair human resource policies and procedures of the DOD’ (Van Niekerk 2002: 6). A dispute was declared over the unilateral amendments and implementation of the staffing process, failing which the process would be contested. This appeal was based on the claim that the union had received 456 staffing complaints over alleged irregularities in the appointment procedures. The same applied to the revision of the merit award bonus system, and the replacement of the Voluntary Severance Package (VSP) with the new Employer Initiated Severance Package (EIP), and pension payouts for former MK and APLA members (Van Niekerk 2004).
South Africa 95 Against the background of growing tensions between SANDU, the DOD as Employer and the Minister of Defence, SANDU turned to the Pretoria High Court to intervene against the Minister’s authority to suspend negotiations in the MBC and the DOD’s unilateral implementation of policies. In two separate High Court applications in July 2002, SANDU sought to declare that the Minister of Defence has firstly, an obligation to negotiate on all matters of mutual interest and secondly, that the provisions in the General Regulations that are an infringement of the Bill of Rights in the Constitution, be corrected or set aside. In terms of the first issue, Justice van der Westhuizen ruled that there is no constitutional imperative that imposes a duty on the DOD to participate in collective bargaining. He went on to state that ‘the Constitution properly interpreted permits a right to engage in collective bargaining and that such right is in the nature of a freedom. Consequently the employer has a choice rather than a duty to negotiate with the employee trade unions’ (De Lange 2003: 4). Without ado, this judgement was challenged by SANDU, but as the wheels of justice turned the DOD continued with the Restructuring and Transformation Process (RTP) as agreed by government for the wider public service, known as Resolution 7/2002. In July 2003, the Pretoria High Court overruled Judge van der Westhuizen’s ruling and ordered that the SANDF had a duty to negotiate with military trade unions about matters that affect the working conditions of soldiers. According to Judge Bertelsmann, the General Regulations impose a duty on the DOD to negotiate on all matters that affect the rights and interest of members of the SANDF. He stated that ‘in the absence of a right to strike, the denial of the right of collective bargaining would emasculate the labour rights protected by the Constitution, and trade unions would be left to the whim of employers, with no other recourse’ (De Lange 2003: 4). This favourable judgement followed on a number of other victories for SANDU in terms of the irregularities in the General Regulations that were in conflict with the Constitution. Whereas before, SANDU was not permitted in terms of the General Regulations to represent its members in grievance, disciplinary or court proceedings, the Court now afforded them this right. The prohibition on members of the SANDF to participate in the activities and programmes of SANDU during military operations, military exercises and military training (including international obligations) was also overruled. This implies that the MTUs now have the right to liaise or consult with their members during these periods. The right of the Minister to unilaterally appoint the five members to the Military Arbitration Board was also repealed. Having suffered the defeat of a number of court cases, the SANDF after almost a decade has come to reluctantly accept the existence of the union. The most recent Human Resource Strategy identified the ‘lack of culture to practise sound labour relations at all levels as an issue of strategic concern’. This has led to the establishment of a DOD Labour Relations Centre for Excellence to deal with labour relations problems, including negotiations with trade unions and to provide specialist advice and support to all commanders (Department of Defence 2003: 26, 33, 56). The collective bargaining process is back on track and SANDU
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has become increasingly vigilant in defending the rights of its members, by not only keeping the military leadership in check, but by highlighting unfair labour practices in the press and bringing issues to the attention of parliament.
PLACING EVENTS IN CONTEXT In South Africa, SANDU has acted as a watchdog intent on challenging the unilateral implementation of policies affecting military personnel and giving members a ‘voice’ in matters affecting their employment. Without doubt, underlying the need for a union is the instability and insecurity created by the transformation process. The impact is felt at various levels, first in terms of the restructuring of conditions of employment and secondly, the lack of trust in the chain of command as well as the insecurities created by the political imperatives of affirmative action. On the former, much of the union’s energies have centred on influencing policies affecting the conditions of service of their members. Given the emphasis on affirmative action, it appears as if whites are experiencing the transformation more negatively than blacks. This explains why many have resorted to joining SANDU, not because they have a predisposition towards unionism (quite the contrary),5 but because they feel alienated from the system. The union is seen as a voice and means to protect their interests, where the chain of command has failed them. Many have seen their hopes of promotion slashed due to affirmative action, and the placement of many white senior officers on the supernumerary list has fuelled resentment and racial tension. SANDU reports that most of the members now joining the 25,000 strong union, are former white SADF officers. Besides the unique challenges the transformation process posed for the South African armed forces, many of the same social forces that led to military unionism in Western Europe, were evident in South Africa – a sense of frustration among military personnel as they witnessed a decline in their service conditions, rising occupationalism within the ranks, a dominant trade union culture receptive to unionism, a growing rights based culture and most importantly, the legal opportunity to organise (Caforio 2003: 311–19). Like Europe, trade unions rights for military personnel were not secured through collective bargaining, but by government initiated legislation that guaranteed certain inalienable rights to individuals irrespective of employment. In the case of South Africa, this was the ‘linchpin’ in granting soldiers union rights. Even so, this did not mean that military leadership accepted the decision of the courts. The SANDF tried every avenue to suppress the union – appealing to the loyalty of members, creating an alternative mechanisms to address members’ collective grievances, victimising union members, adopting an excessively legalistic approach to prevent the union from gaining a foothold – and when this failed, restricting its right to negotiate over certain matters of ‘mutual interest’. The arguments that a union will undermined morale, discipline, divided the chain of command or politicise the armed forces, is not evident in South Africa. Although there was some concern, that the rival union SASFU representing some
South Africa 97 5,000 members, mostly from the former revolutionary forces, would politicise and divide the ranks along racial and political lines, this has not been the case. In effect, depending on where one stands in this issue, SANDU has been a lone voice defending the democratic rights of members and serving as a watchdog over military leadership in a country where there are increasing signs of a ‘politicisation’ of the forces. Although the former APLA and MK forces comprise only 17.6 per cent of the present SANDF, they represent over 39 per cent of the senior level in the rank group Brigadier General and above (DOD 2005). The opposition Democratic Alliance has warned that the ANC is slowly taking over the Defence Force (Van Eeden 2005: 5). As the union becomes more critical of senior SANDF leadership, it will be of interest to see whether attempts will be made to revoke labour rights of soldiers, or whether this ‘concession’ will pose a threat to civil–military relations in this fragile democracy. In terms of the gains made by SANDU, the ‘victories’ have not been as a result of collective bargaining, but on the basis of certain inalienable rights guaranteed in the Constitution. Based on these legal imperatives, the SANDF has been compelled to align its command and managerial attitudes to deal with unions. The problem is not only in terms of power relations, diverging values and personality clashes, but because the unions have to ‘bargain on the courts’ to obtain concessions, rather than on the process of collective bargaining. This is complicated by the fact that the present labour regulations for military personnel are fundamentally flawed as many of the provisions are in conflict with the Constitution. These still need to be revised. As the state is the guardian of public interest, the obligation rests upon it to provide a legislative framework that can balance the needs of the military as employer, versus the needs of the union as a legitimate voice of the soldiers. All three parties, the state (as legislator), the DOD (as employer) and the unions (as employees) need to move towards consensus-building based on mutual respect for each others’ needs and rights within a democracy. This is commonly accepted in South Africa, but implies the right to be consulted on matters regulating employee relations. Most European armed forces tend to follow a consultative or corporatist approach to employee relations. Freedom of association is recognised and where unions exist, their legal standing and right to be consulted on a wide range of issues is acknowledged by the state and military leadership alike. Of interest, is that where these rights have been granted, the unions have not acted in selfinterest, but along ‘corporatist’ lines. Their aims according to Caforio (2003: 319) have been, among others, to defend the moral and professional interests of members, to enhance the profession in the eyes of the public, to inform commanders on personnel problems, to collaborate in solving personnel problems, to inform members on personnel issues, to defend the interests of retired personnel and to participate in bodies for social and cultural promotion. From this it appears, that the cardinal difference between the European associations/unions and the South Africa experience, is that here the military unions are not concerned with ‘institutional matters’ relating to the military profession,
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but with typical union issues affecting conditions of service and job security. The question raised by the DOD, is how far does the right to collective bargaining stretch, without it undermining management prerogative?6 Once the right to negotiate has been conceded, it grants the union ipso facto significant powers. In terms of South Africa, military unionism is caught in the wrath of confrontational pluralism and it will be some time before an amicable middle ground is found. Unlike Europe, the only role models have been other unions in the public service, which are notoriously militant. Only recently has there been a greater willingness to move away from the past confrontational approach that has dominated employee relations in the SANDF over the past decade. In international terms, this is still a far cry from the corporatist approach found in Western Europe.
Notes 1 The forces which formed the new South African National Defence Force in 1994 and consisted of the five statutory defence forces, namely the South African Defence Force (SADF), the four homeland defence forces Transkei Defence Force, the Boputhaswana Defence Force, the Venda Defence Force and the Ciskei Defence Force (collectively knows as the TBVC forces) and the two non-statutory forces, the African National Congress’ political wing Umkhonto we Sizwe, the Pan African Congress’ political wing the Azanian People’s Liberation Army and later also the KwaZulu Self Protection Force. 2 Complicating the legal debate on this matter was the replacement of the Labour Relations Act of 1956 with the new Labour Relations Act of 1995. 3 See General Regulations for the South African National Defence Force (1999) Chapter 30. Government Gazette, No. 20376, 20 August 1999. 4 Shortly after the establishment of SASFU it was thrown into disrepute after it was found to have received financial support from the Police Prisons and Civil Rights Union (POPCRU), a militant police union, affiliated to the Congress of South African Trade Unions (COSATU) and politically aligned to the African National Congress. This was against Defence Labour Relations Regulations and the union was threatened with de-registration. Since this incident, SASFU has not displayed an overtly political agenda. 5 Many of the officers interviewed in the course of this research state that ‘they would never have thought that they would have to join a union to protect them against the system’. 6 See answering Affidavit of Solly Zacharia Shoke in the matter of the Pretoria High Court between SANDU and Others and the Minister of Defence and Others, 2003.
References Caforio, G. (2003) ‘Unionization of the Military: Representation of the Interests of Military Personnel’, in Caforio, G. (ed.) Handbook of the Sociology of the Military. New York: Kluwer Academic/Plenum Publishers. Caforio, G. and Nuciari, M. (1994) ‘The Officer Profession: Ideal Type’, Current Sociology 42 (3). De Klerk, B. J. (1995) ‘South African Defence Unions and George Vuma and the Minister of Defence and Chief of the National Defence Force’, Constitutional Court Case CT 32/95. De Lange, I. (2003) ‘Military Unions Win Case’, The Citizen, 15 July. Department of Defence (DOD) (1994) ‘Die Soldaat en Arbeidsverhoudinge’, CNDF Internal Communication Bulletin, 9 September.
South Africa 99 Department of Defence (DOD) (1998) White Paper on Defence and Defence Review. Pretoria: Department of Defence. ——— (2001) ‘Briefing on Military Trade Unions’. Joint Standing Committee on Defence. Parliament, Cape Town. ——— (2002) Annual Report for Financial Year 2001/2. Department of Defence: Pretoria. ——— (2003) Department of Defence Human Resources Strategy 2010, DS/CPP/D HR PLAN/R/101/6, 17 March. ——— (2005) Personnel Statistics 15 February 2005. Directorate Service and Labour Relations, Defence Headquarters, Pretoria. Dube, P. and Gifford, G. (1999) ‘Killing Spree Triggers Rethink on Integration’, The Sunday Independent, 19 September. Du Plessis, G. J. (2001a) Minutes of the Military Bargaining Council Meeting, 4–6 July 2001. CPP/D/HR POL/R/521/3/1/1/41 4–6 July 2001. Pretoria, Defence Headquarters. ——— (2001b) Minutes of the Military Bargaining Council Meeting, 6 February 2001 and 14 February 2001. CPP/D/HR POL/R/521/3/1/1/41, 23 March 2001. Pretoria, Defence Headquarters. Friedman, R. (1994) ‘Soldiers’, Argus, 3 September. Harries-Jenkins, G. (1977) ‘Trade Unions in Armed Forces’, in Taylor, W. J., Arango, R. J. and Lockwood, R. S. (eds) Military Unions, U.S. Trends and Issues. London: Sage Publications. Heinecken, L. (1995) ‘Military Unionism in South Africa: Legality and Potential for Development’, African Security Review, 4 (5). ——— (1997a) ‘Is Selfless Service becoming a Misplaced Service Ethic? Attitudes of Officers serving in the South African National Defence Force’, Society in Transition, 28 (1–4). ——— (1997b) ‘No Unions, We’re the SANDF: But What’s the Alternative’, African Security Review, 6 (6). Honey, P. (2002) ‘The Battle’s Just Begun’, Financial Mail, 7 June 2002. Kane-Berman, J. (2003) South Africa Survey 2002/2003. Pretoria: Institute for Race Relations. Mandela, N. (1995) Letter from President Nelson Mandela to Mr C. van Niekerk, South African National Defence Union, 15 May. Manley, T., McNichols, C. and Young, G. (1977) ‘Military unionisation: A conceptual model for empirical research’, in Taylor, W. J., Arango, R. J. and Lockwood, R. S. (eds) Military Unions, U.S. Trends and Issues. London: Sage Publications. Meiring, G. L. (1995) Report on Communication Implications of Attitude Surveys Done in 1995. Chief of the SANDF, Communications Service CSANDF/CDCC/INTCOM/R/ 511/4/5/1, 14 February 1995. O’Regan, J. (1998) South African National Defence Union versus Minister of Defence and Chief of the South African National Defence Force, Constitutional Court Case No. 27/98, Pretoria. Perkins, C. (1997) ‘Troops Declare War on Generals’, Sunday Times, 13 July. Political Staff (1994) ‘War Brewing over Union for Soldiers’, The Argus, 29 August. Potgieter, D. (1994) ‘Veldtog Gevoer Teen Lede se SANWU’ (Campaign Against SANDU Members), Rapport, 9 October. Pretorius, J. (1995) ‘Integration, Rationalisation and Restructuring of the SA Army: Challenges and Prospects’, African Security Review, 4. Seegers, A. (1996) The Military in the Making of Modern South Africa. London/New York: Tauris Academic Studies.
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Setai Commission (2001) Final Report on Progress on Integration Since June 2001, Joint Standing Committee on Defence, 12 October. Available at HTTP: (accessed April 2003). Schutte, C. and Sass, B. (1995) ‘Public Opinion Regarding Demobilisation of Military Members and Unionisation in the South African Security Forces’, African Security Review, 4 (5). Van Eeden, J. (2005) ‘ANC neem Stadig Maar Seker Beheer oor Weermag Oor’ (ANC Slowly but Surely taking over Control of Defence Force), Rapport, 20 Feb. Van Niekerk, C. (2002) ‘Foreword. Enough is Enough’, SANDU National Conference Programme. Pretoria: SANDU. ——— (2004) ‘Military Labour Relations Policies’, Second Meeting of the Military Bargaining Council, Pretoria. Weekend Argus Correspondent (1995) ‘SANDF Declares War’, Weekend Argus 25/26 March.
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Military unionism in Slovenia A way ahead for soldiers’ interests? Maja Garb and Ljubica Jelusˇicˇ
INTRODUCTION The dissolution of the former Socialist Federal Republic of Yugoslavia (SFRY) in 1991 has been a turning point for its citizens in many ways. Some of them were crucial: they had been living together peacefully for 45 years but they were now faced with war; they were forced to understand that the Yugoslav People’s Army that was well established and admired was now a force against the Slovenian nation itself, and that the ‘workers’ friendly socialist political system’ no longer existed. In the former system all people claimed to be ‘workers’ despite growing social inequalities, therefore they all benefited from the same system of ensuring workers’ interests. This was based upon one big socialist syndicate which was organised throughout the state and which had representatives at all levels of local and governmental decision-making. The syndicate was organised into smaller sections according to different branches and it followed the hierarchy of the political system. On a general level, it was a unitarist syndicate, formed according to the interests of the political elite, and the top leaders of the syndicate were part of that same elite. The end of socialism and the rise of a pluralistic society with many political parties has changed the syndicate structure. Different syndicates emerged which were organised not only according to industrial or public branches, but also according to the prevailing ideology of their membership. Therefore, some syndicates were more prone to follow the left oriented parties and some were affiliated to the right of the political spectrum. After gaining independence in 1991, Slovenia was one of the first republics within the former SFRY to establish a multi-party political system with new union representation. The military was not immediately involved in ensuring the human rights of its employees. There were different reasons for a short delay in such processes. First, the new Slovenian military was in the process of re-organisation. Its institutional framework in the newly established country was very weak and organising workers’ specific interests was not its first priority. Second, the Constitution of the newly independent state prohibited workers in uniform (military and police) from becoming active members of political parties. So although the syndicate was not treated as a political institution, military employees were reluctant to work towards union representation. The processes of
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re-organising the bureaucratic structure of the armed forces had normalised within three years after independence, and the standpoint of military employees towards the representation of workers’ interests changed. In 1994, the first syndicate was formed and, recently, two have been established. The scope of interests, for which military employees have struggled, has changed over time and the political stance in the syndicates has moved from pro-governmental to more independent, or even oppositional. The change from a predominantly conscript army into a purely all-volunteer force in 2003 has broadened the number and scope of workers’ problems, and this has led to complications in the relationship between soldiers on the one side and government as employer on the other. Whilst the need for privates is bigger than ever, a military career involves major disadvantages and loss of social benefits. The clash between the expectations of soldiers to serve in organisations with a high social reputation and the reality of the new military organisation created by the process of ‘secularisation of the military’1 described by Haltiner (1985: 39) has resulted in a new impetus for military unionism.
ORGANISATIONAL AND FORCE RESTRUCTURING IN SLOVENIA SINCE 1991 The national security system and its military subsystem of independent Slovenia has gone through different phases of establishment and transformation. The first period was between the Ten-Day War for Independence in 1991 and March 1994. This marked the establishment of the main structure and institutional frameworks of the military, such as the organisation of military units, the headquarters staff, the legal basis for military law, the structure of democratic control over the military, and the building of education and training centres for conscripts. Until January 1992, Slovenia existed without international recognition, but, following the wave of recognitions delivered by the EU members (15 January 1992) and the United States (7 April 1992), Slovenia soon became a member of the UN (1992), the Council of Europe (1993), the World Trade Organisation (1994) and the Central European Free Trade Association (1995). A closer relationship was also established with the EU, first by signing a Cooperation Agreement in 1993 and then a European Agreement in 1995. Therefore, after January 1992, although Slovenia had little if any manoeuvring space in reconsidering its own defence because it was held firmly under an arms embargo introduced by the UN against all the republics of former Yugoslavia, the possibilities for guaranteeing its security changed considerably.2 This affected Slovenia both politically and militarily. Although the Slovenian military enjoyed the image of an army that had defeated the Yugoslav People’s Army (YPA), it remained vulnerable, armed with old weaponry that required old-fashioned training. The characteristics of the newly established defence system differ radically from those of the former Yugoslav forces. Compulsory military service has been shortened to seven months (in the former YPA it had been 12 months). The recruits serve very close to their homes – whereas YPA dispersed recruits throughout the
Military unionism in Slovenia 103 whole state, usually far from home. Conscientious objection is now allowed on a very broad basis, including humanitarian, religious and philosophical motives. Alternative civil service in new Slovenia is of the same length as military duty and can be performed within a wide range of organisations. In the former Yugoslavia, conscientious objection was not allowed until the dying days of the state when the military authorities finally recognised objections on a religious basis and established non-armed military duty for objectors within military units. The fundamental documents that set the legal basis of a Slovenian national security system were adopted in the first phase of defence reforms in 1991. Among them the most important are: Articles 92, 102, 123, 124 of the Slovenian Constitution (adopted in December 1991); the Defence Act (1991, amended in 1994, 2002); and the Act on Military Duty. These main characteristics of the national security system remained until 2002. The second period of the national security reforms (between March 1994 and end of 2000) was characterised by a change of direction from the earlier self-reliance doctrine of total national defence into collective security and defence in international alliances. The reforms were connected with the possibility of Slovenia becoming a member of different international security and political institutions, such as NATO (after signing the Partnership for Peace (PfP) Framework Document on 30 March 1994), the EU (negotiations with the EU on possible accession), and United Nations (UN) (the non-permanent membership in the United Nations Security Council (1998–1999)). Parallel to the national security reforms were huge transformations and restructuring of the military. The end of 1994 was marked by the amended Defence Act, which changed the name of the defence forces from ‘Teritorialna obramba (Territorial Defence, as inherited from former Yugoslavia)’ into ‘Slovenska vojska’ (SV), i.e. the Slovenian Army. It meant the end of guerrilla tactics and the development of a standing constabulary force. The Defence Act decreed that military personnel were to be employed for a period of, from five years for privates, to ten years for non-commissioned and commissioned officers (with the possibility of continuing extensions for five years at a time, until the age of 45 for privates and until the age of 55 for noncommissioned officers, while the upper age for employment of commissioned officers was not determined by the Act) (Zakon o obrambi, Ur.l. RS, 82/1994). Throughout 1993, the Slovenian government began informal cooperation with NATO and at the end of the year the idea of seeking NATO membership became a doctrinal issue. In December 1993, the National Parliament adopted a Resolution on the Principles of National Security, and within this framework formalised the accession to NATO as one of the key goals of Slovenia’s foreign and defence policy. In July 1994, the government of Slovenia presented NATO with its reasons for accession to the PfP Programme and plans for the implementation of measures for its realisation as well as plans for a number of activities in military and civilian fields. In order to be more organisationally prepared for international security missions and to establish a military organisation on the principles of a standing army, Slovenia decided to establish a bigger military professional corps. By the end of 1994 a special military unit was established, named the
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10th Battalion for International Cooperation, whose duties were to train and cooperate in bilateral and multilateral international peacekeeping operations. This was the first main military reform of the Slovenian defence sector. The first deployment in a peacekeeping role was in 1997 in operation ALBA in Albania, followed by continued cooperation in the UN-led UNFICYP operation. In May 1995, in recognition of the changes in the defence system and military structure of the SV, the first individual partner programme on cooperation between Slovenia and NATO was adopted. This document marked the beginning of Slovenia’s path to NATO and the start of investment in NATO membership. When the NATO Study on Enlargement was presented to partner-states in September 1995, the Slovenian political elite considered that Slovenia was well prepared to meet the prescribed conditions for NATO membership. Certain of being one of the best candidates for joining NATO, the Slovenian Parliament decided to strengthen the country’s application for NATO membership by adopting the decision to ensure Slovenia’s fundamental security interest within the framework of the collective defence system enabled by NATO membership. In April 1997, the newly elected National Parliament again confirmed the willingness of Slovenia to become a NATO member by adopting the Declaration of Parliamentary Parties in Support of Slovenia’s Integration into NATO. However, the Madrid 1997 NATO Declaration mentioned Slovenia but not as an invited candidate for NATO membership. The failure to be invited to join NATO had a sobering effect on Slovenian public opinion and the political elite, but it did not stop the active cooperation of the Slovenian Army in NATO activities. Indeed, the Slovenian Army began its cooperation in peacekeeping operations under NATO command (Stabilisation force (SFOR) in Bosnia-Herzegovina in October 1997, followed by 14 rotations until 2005, continued in Kosovo Force (KFOR) at Kosovo in 1999). Slovenia has also contributed units to a number of multinational joint peacekeeping forces3 in the region in an attempt to verify its interoperability in the future European defence capabilities. The reasons for cooperation in these collaborative ventures are not only connected with peacekeeping, but also with promoting Slovenian interest in integration into Western security organisations (Latawski 2005: 74). Participation in NATO-led missions has an additional diplomatic role in that it demonstrates that SV units could be easily integrated in, and be interoperable with, NATO forces (Hostnik 2002: 34). The development of the predominantly peacekeeping role of the SV clearly shows the new list of priorities among the tasks for the military, as prescribed by the Defence Act.4 The deployment in peacekeeping missions has become an integral part of all military units. Now every soldier, who joins as a volunteer, is expected to volunteer for peacekeeping missions. This removes the need to have a special unit (such as the Battalion for International Cooperation) specifically for these purposes. The third phase of national security and military reforms began in 2000 with the announcement of a faster rate of structural change and professionalisation of the military and increased training in units. The aim of these reforms was to create a defence force that was small in size, but well armed, equipped and trained.
Military unionism in Slovenia 105 The restructuring process was set at 25,000 service members (including 7,000 professionals, 5,000 recruits under compulsory military service with the rest being reserve soldiers). This announcement resulted in the biggest reduction of the armed forces in ten years, cutting back the mass army of 56,000 soldiers in 1998 to less than half in a five-year period. Cutbacks were executed in reserve forces, which affected NCOs and officers predominantly occupied with training the reservists. In Autumn 2001, the reform processes initiated debates on doing away with compulsory military service, which were reopened in February 2002. In April 2002 the government of Slovenia decided to abolish conscription. The Parliament agreed the decision without much public debate and set June 2004 as the last call-up date for draftees and the year 2010 as the end of duty to serve in reserve units. In reality, with the refusal of many conscripts to serve, conscription ended in October 2003 – before the pre-set deadline – when the last generation of conscripts finished their service.
Military reforms and their effects on the structure of military employment During the 15 years since independence, the Slovenian armed forces have undergone a range of structural reorganisations. These included many different transformations of military units (merges, terminations, new establishments, reorganisations) and some substantial changes for employed military personnel, too, including the downsizing of the reserve forces and increasing the all-volunteer force. Officers and NCOs who entered the establishing phase of the military (1991–1994) had good opportunities for progression and promotion, although some of them did not have appropriate civilian and/or military education. They all had permanent jobs until the end of their working career. Similar working contracts were given to the first career soldiers, who joined the military police, the air force service, and later on also the Battalion for International Cooperation. In the second period, between 1994 and 2000, the Government became less generous with its soldiers and began to implement time-limited contracts for five or ten years. These first contracts did not create much attention or many protests from the military partly because those entering the military did so with the promise of adventure and good salaries, and the deadlines were a long way off. In addition, together with some improvements in terms of better working conditions, there were many promises to prolong the contracts especially for those who achieved promotion or showed enough interest in military life to become NCOs. In the last period of military development, after the year 2000, the conditions of employment for soldiers changed radically. Privates had to sign five-year contracts with no clear promise of extensions and no indication of help for searching for another job after release from the military. Nevertheless, a very broad recruitment campaign, which was intended to ensure a sufficient supply of military personnel to replace leaving draftees, produced many new candidates for military jobs. In the years 2003 and 2004 nearly one thousand soldiers per year entered the military. There were approximately three candidates for every vacancy. For
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the military and the Ministry of Defence the recruiting campaign was a great success. One precondition regarding the formal education of privates was that they should have finished secondary school. The high numbers of applicants meant that all recruits met this standard. However, this relatively high level of education among new recruits has had consequences for their future career opportunities. During conscription, soldiers had already had previous occupations and although they would have to refresh their earlier skills they were able to enter a new career reasonably quickly when they left the forces. Unfortunately, it seems that many soldiers either do not make use of the benefits of the military educational system to upgrade their military skills and knowledge, or they are more interested in upgrading their civilian qualifications, knowing that it would help them to search for a job at the end of their military contract. So, many good soldiers do not meet the requirements for military promotion, with the result that their commitment is comparatively low. Generally speaking, Slovenian soldiers are not happy with their contracts, although they are aware of them from the beginning. Initially they are more concerned with going on peace missions as soon as possible and as often as possible in their five-year term, because the salary and experiences gained there are much higher than while serving at home. The attractiveness of higher salaries on missions is the reason for disputes between soldiers and the state. Many soldiers realise that in their contract period they will probably serve only twice outside the country because the chances for deployment have changed radically in recent years. At the beginning of peace deployments, especially between 1997 and 2002, many soldiers successfully volunteered for overseas tours. The initial organisation of units for deployment was ad hoc; soldiers were put together because of the mission and so they came from different units. Some completed four or five tours abroad. However, units are now deployed as a whole and soldiers must now wait until their unit is on the list for deployment. This can mean a long wait, because despite many rotations in peace operations, Slovenia contributes only around 200 soldiers per rotation and the units are dispersed in Althea (Bosnia-Herzegovina), KFOR (Kosovo) and ISAF (Afghanistan). Soldiers who have completed several tours on peace operations are now a specific source of dissatisfaction. In their first deployments they had many benefits because they were in very small units and the logistics was not very complicated. They had free phone lines, good working conditions (UNFICYP) and plenty of leisure facilities (SFOR). In the last three years, many of these circumstances have changed. Soldiers must now use their own mobile phones, internet facilities must first be organised (and do not always work) family members are not allowed to visit them on missions (which is available for troops from other countries), food depends on the military bases on which they live which, in many cases cater for the needs of the soldiers from the leading nation in the operation, and this may not necessarily meet the needs of other soldiers. The increasing number of peacekeeping operations has led many soldiers on deployment to complain of a growing apathy and ignorance on the part of the Slovenian public and the media.
Military unionism in Slovenia 107 They also claim that the troops who have stayed at home have no knowledge of conditions abroad. Those deployed on peacekeeping complain of being forgotten at home and not being presented in a good light by the media. Their main complains relate to the differences in their contact with civilians at home and on their missions. While they are deployed, they have many opportunities to work among the local population and to get some personal satisfaction both for doing a good job and for the recognition of their work from local people. Because they communicate with local civilians, they are able to change their stereotypes about them and they leave with more positive attitudes than they had before deployment. At home, they have few or even no opportunities at all to talk to the citizens as soldiers in uniform. The training areas are far from the cities, so civilians have little chance to see how good their soldiers are at executing their job. This leads to a perception that the military is disliked and without support at home, whilst in foreign countries, they are better accepted. For many soldiers the decreasing number of benefits from the missions and the smaller possibilities of being deployed abroad in peacekeeping operations has been a source of job dissatisfaction. Some newspapers have reported on soldiers’ demands for workers’ rights and on their concerns about what will happen to them at the end of their contracts (Cernoga 2005: 2–3). Although some contracts terminated in 2005, the process of release was not so critical as it will be in 2008/9. Nevertheless, criticism from the units is growing. Many privates are asking what will happen to them at the age of 45 when, according to the Defence Act, they will have to leave the military (always provided they are successful in extending their contracts enough times to actually reach that age). Even if they had a second occupation from the time before they joined the military, the problem is whether they will be able to compete for such jobs on the labour market when they leave. Soldiers seem to be badly informed about the real military life before entering the military career. Some argue that they did not expect it to be so physically demanding and with so many possibilities to get injured. Therefore, in order to escape from situations in which they would be sent on dangerous missions abroad, some are trying to find less dangerous jobs within non-combat roles such as military logistics, support units or administration. Even the higher financial reward whilst on missions does not represent a sufficient compensation for losing one’s health. The SV and the MOD will have to find additional ways to retain personnel in units with high probability of deployment abroad, and better ways for the resettlement of the thousands who will face the end of their contracts in years to come. A clear plan for the changeover from a military to a civilian career is urgent both to reduce the dissatisfaction of soldiers with their job prospects and to overcome future recruiting problems. There is also a cultural phenomenon in Slovenian society, in general, that influences the attitudes of soldiers in SV towards their employment. Surveys in syndicates show that Slovenian workers are among the most dissatisfied within the new EU member states. One-third of the Slovenian workers have reported bad working conditions and problems with motivation and productivity. The International Labour Organisation (ILO) experts regard these findings as
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surprising since conditions in the Slovenian labour market are much better than in other new EU members. The dissatisfaction of Slovenian workers is caused by perceptions of greater occupational stress, longer working hours and time-limited working contracts (Kocbek 2005: 13). Another problem of the military employment in the SV is the mixture of different job statuses which have come about because of many changes in law, policy and structure during the 14 years of transformation. The SV members are a sort of ‘personnel conglomerate’ with a range of different employment and job statuses. Employment statuses differ accordingly to the entrance period, rank, formal education, nature of work (operational or administrative/supportive) and also as a result of so-called, benefits earned by those who participated in the ten-day Independence War in 1991. There are also groups of soldiers with more permanent employment, the group with ten year employment contracts, the group with five year contracts (mostly recently employed privates). These short- or mediumterm contracts for privates have some negative consequences on soldiers’ private lives. For example, one of the most frustrating consequences, especially for young personnel, is the impossibility of taking out a bank loan. This problem can be seen in all cases where workers sign time-limited contracts, especially for less than five years, because Slovenian banks usually give loans for longer periods because they feel that the loan is more secure with a better guarantee of repayment if the worker has a permanent job. The fact that the majority of military jobs in SV are short- and medium-termed brings a new dimension to the labour market. In the political system of the former socialist Yugoslavia most jobs were permanent and workers’ rights in the socialist system were extensive. Permanent jobs brought high personal stability, but caused less motivation for competition among workers, because they knew that nothing could remove them from their position. In the post-socialist transformation, permanent workers’ jobs were the first victims of the neo-capitalist approach. Older generations who were originally employed during the previous system had opportunities to protect their privileges, whereas the younger generation of job seekers in most cases must now accept short-term jobs with no guarantee for extension. This employment instability is, arguably, the main reason for the dissatisfaction of Slovenian workers reported by the ILO. Within the military, short-term contracts were even more unusual than the comparative situation in civilian society. In the former Yugoslavia the military profession was one of the most stable occupations. It was always a ‘job for life’ or until the employee chose to leave. In this sense, the new Slovenian military has made a clean break with the past. Although some service personnel still got permanent jobs in the first years after independence, this benefit has slowly disappeared until, after a decade of transformation, the majority of working positions are now only for short- or medium-term contracts. There is one additional specific characteristic of the employment statuses of Slovenian military personnel, deriving from the fact that soldiers are public servants (state officials) by law. They are not afforded any special status as a sui generis occupation and belong to the ‘army’ of state officials in the ministries, the
Military unionism in Slovenia 109 government and other public offices. The advantages and disadvantages of the status of state officials are as valid for Slovenian soldiers as for civil servants, and the military organisation has to respect the regulations of Law on Public Servants,5 no matter what kind of task it ascribes to the soldiers. Military jobs often pose some special demands on personnel (overtime work, orderly duties, out-of-state deployments, work under stress and dangerous conditions) and so, almost inevitably, the military organisation can find itself in collision with regulations of the Law on Public Servants. It may also lead to some absurd situations such as the introduction of regulations on flexible daily working time. All public servants have the chance to begin their working day at different times, but this regulation would cause chaos in military units. Obviously, they will have to ask for an exemption so that service personnel can begin their duties at the same time each morning. Thus the Slovenian military unions established since 1994 face a number of challenges in the future including the negative feelings of workers in Slovenia in general, which was reported in the ILO survey, as well the growing disappointment of soldiers with their contracts, fewer opportunities to prolong their service in the military and reduced benefits from peacekeeping missions (which was one of the main attractions for many to join the army in the first place).
THE CHALLENGES OF MILITARY EMPLOYMENT AND UNIONISM
Unionism among Slovenian military personnel The legal framework The organisational and legal characteristics of the Slovenian armed forces are among the major driving forces for the development of military unions in Slovenia. However, the evolution of unionism in the defence sector in general, not only in the military, should be seen in the framework of the general development in trade unionism in Slovenian society following the change of the socioeconomic system at the beginning of the 1990s. As already stated, in the socialist system trade unions were organised in a unitarist way as a part of the whole sociopolitical structure of society. Theoretically the unions looked after workers’ interests, but in practice they took the side of the employer. So, although they appeared to act on behalf of the workers to satisfy their basic needs, their main aims were to achieve higher productivity and the loyalty of the workers. To achieve these goals, the unions busied themselves organising trips, sport activities, and cheaper holidays and providing discounts for food supplies (like the very popular arrangement of fruit and vegetable discounts for the winter period, called ozimnica). In 1990, Slovenia had the first multi-party elections and formed a parliament in which different political ideologies were represented. Previously state-owned enterprises gradually changed ownership to the corporate managing boards of
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private owners. The renewed, reorganised, or newly established syndicates (or unions) have taken an important role in bargaining with the management of these enterprises in order to improve the working conditions of workers. Their main concern at the beginning of transition was to retain at least similar levels of workers’ rights to the ones they had been used to in the previous socialist system. In many cases they succeeded, but there were also many issues, which unions were not able to insert into the new collective agreements for workers in specific trades. Some syndicates cooperated with the management hoping to preserve a high level of workers’ rights by behaving in a loyal and constructive way. In other words, they mostly continued with the same behaviour as the syndicates in the former socialist system. The legal framework of military unionisation in Slovenia has been laid down in various basic state documents. The Slovenian Constitution guarantees the free establishment and membership of trade unions and gives the workers the right to strike. The Constitution also says that the right to strike is limited in cases of specific public needs. The Defence Act goes further in regulating such cases: it forbids military personnel to strike during military service, while other personnel who work in the broader defence sector can strike, but only under very strict conditions. This regulation is written in the Defence Act, which was adopted in 1994. Significant changes to these regulations were reached in 2002 with various amendments to the Defence Act which defined the right to unionisation and union activity (in accordance with the law) and the conditions for the recognition of representative trade unions – the Act says that at least 15 per cent of personnel in the organisation have to be included in a trade union for it to be recognised as a representative trade union.6 It also included a salary increment for military personnel, to compensate for the ban on strike action. Two additional regulations defined the topics that may not be discussed by military unions and matters on which the unions can have an opinion but it is not obligatory for the employer to discuss. Although military unions were not organised at the same time as the establishment of the armed forces of the newly independent state of Slovenia, the idea of belonging to a union was always acceptable to Slovenian military personnel. The Defence Research Centre of the University of Ljubljana, Faculty of Social Sciences, carried out an empirical survey among military officers in 1993 and 1994 on aspects of the military profession. Some of the questions concerned the problems of military unionism, representation of military interests and the rights of soldiers to cooperate in military decision-making. The results of this part of the survey (Figure 7.1) show that: 1
2 3
Two-thirds of military personnel (including officers and soldiers) felt that they should have the right to join a union that represents only military personnel. More than half of the respondents agreed that soldiers should have the right to join the public servants’ union. A majority of respondents disagreed with the idea that soldiers should have the right to join any civilian trade union.
Military unionism in Slovenia 111 4
5
The possibility of expressing publicly their grievances by taking part in demonstrations and strikes in peacetime was rejected by more than 90 per cent of respondents. More than 80 per cent of officers agreed that soldiers should have the right to be involved in decision-making on normal daily duty issues with exception of command and drill. “As a matter of principle, that means without refering to contemporary legal regulations, what do you think about the following statements?” 0% 20% 40% 60% 80% 100% a. Soldiers should have the right to join any civil union b. Soldiers should have the right to join a union representing military personnel only c. Soldiers should have the right to join a civilian trade union representing all public servants d. Soldiers should have the right of codetermination in daily duty (except command and drill) e. Soldiers should have the right of code termination in all matters of military daily life f. Soldiers should have the right, in peace time, to publicly express their views (even demonstrating in uniform) g. In peacetime soldiers should have the right to strike
Agree
Disagree
Not apply
Figure 7.1 Opinions of the Slovenian military on the topic of military unionism
Defence sector unionism instead of military unionism Mistrust of the military or operational urgency? In the current military organisation in Slovenia, there is no exclusive military union. There are three unions that present themselves as representatives of the military’s interests, but the basis for membership goes beyond the borders of the Slovenian Army. Beside unions, there are some associations that also represent the interests of specific military subgroups, like the Association of Slovenian Military Officers, the professional military association of commissioned and
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non-commissioned officers and the veterans’ organisations. The active and reserve military personnel who took part in the ‘independence war’ for Slovenia in 1991, belong to the Union of Veterans of the War for Slovenia. The trade unions that represent the interests of military personnel are the Syndicate of the Ministry of Defence (SMD), the Syndicate of Military, Defence and Protection (SMDP), and one other small union for part of the air force branch – the Syndicate of Pilots of the Ministry of Defence (SPMD). The Syndicate of the Ministry of Defence (SMD) was established in 1994, as the first defence sector union in Slovenia, and it soon became the biggest union for military personnel and public servants in the Ministry of Defence. It had existed in different small organisations for two years before having evolved from several union branches of governmental and other state institutions. The SMD is organised on a territorial basis into ten basic groups, and in a broader organisational sense it is incorporated into the Syndicate of Public Servants. In 2003 it had 4,600 members (see Interview with Major Konda, in Bric 2003: 13) and by the end of 2004 the SMD had obtained a certificate of representation, giving the union the right to negotiate with employers on behalf of its members. In 2004, another union was created – the Syndicate of Military, Defence and Protection (SMDP) – aiming to attract the same membership. Its establishment caused a significant fall in membership of the SMD, which lost many members to the new union. The name of the new syndicate indicates clearly that it represents the interests of workers in military organisations, in the civilian part of the Defence Ministry and in the Office of Rescue and Protection organised within the Ministry of Defence. The SMDP was registered in April 2004 and is incorporated into the Confederation of Trade Unions 1990, whose other members are mainly from the private sector. The union was established by employees of the Ministry of Defence to provide better work and legal protection for workers, to take an active part in the processes of law formation in the field of public administration and defence, and to improve the recognition of the members’ rights. It aims at providing better legal assistance and support to the members of the union (Novak 2005: 16). Membership in the union is ‘open’, which means that the members can come not only from the Defence Ministry but also from other organisations or even from the families of defence personnel. The interests of the different factions of the union’s membership are represented through the formation of special branch commissions. The head of each commission must be employed in the branches they represent (for example, the military personnel have their own commission in the SMDP). At the beginning of 2005, the SMDP had almost 1,000 members (see Interview with Mileva Štukelj, in Grmek 2005: 4–5). The membership has reached the necessary share of 15 per cent of the workforce, demanded by the Defence Act, by the middle of 2005. Then, the leadership of the union will immediately ask for the certificate of representation. According to public statements, this syndicate is currently the most vocal advocate of the soldiers’ working interests. The third union in the defence sector is the Syndicate of the Pilots of the Ministry of Defence, which was established in 1998. The reasons for its
Military unionism in Slovenia 113 establishment were the badly regulated status of military pilots and the lack of legal protection. The pilots felt that they were given insufficient support for the specific nature of their work. They argued that their problems were not considered properly either by the Defence Ministry or by the SMD, to which many used to belong. The SPMD has 80 members (all helicopter or airplane pilots) but, according to the Defence Act, that is not enough to be regarded as a representative trade union. To achieve the right to negotiate for the pilots, the SPMD needs to gain a certificate of representation for the profession of pilots, but because of the small number of members, it cannot reach the 15 per cent representation required under the Defence Act. So, at the moment, the Defence Ministry claims that it has no obligation to talk to SPMD representatives. There are some assumptions that in the near future the SPMD will merge with the SMDP. To sum up, it can be said that the structure of the unions representing military interests is the consequence of broader social and political circumstances in Slovenia’s post-independence. The first syndicate was organised to follow the unionism of broader society, but it did not have an impact on the working or contract conditions of its membership. In general, the status of the military and defence personnel was not very high. This is because the need for personnel in all services of the defence sector was so great that there was not enough time to wait for a better qualified labour force, so that even persons without appropriate qualifications for certain specialised jobs have permanent jobs in the defence sector. In any case, all workers without an appropriate education had the chance to enter the education system as part-time students and reach the required level of education. With organisational changes and the restructuring of the military (and consequently the whole defence sector) and the new problems arising from short- and medium-term contracts for soldiers, the challenges that syndicates faced changed significantly. It appears that the first syndicate, formed in 1994 (the SMD) did not adapt to the new situation. This led to the formation of the two additional syndicates for workers in the same field who were more able and capable of dealing with the new situation.
The activities and difficulties of defence sector unions The activities of all three unions concern the employees’ status in general. As the only recognised union, the SMD was included in negotiations with the government about salaries and salary grades. Its activities were dedicated to the protection of workers’ rights and the organisation of legal assistance for union members. The syndicate has opposed the way in which the government has tried to shrink the benefits of soldiers while calculating overtime work. The SMD has also identified abuses of discipline and difficulties in attitudes towards work in the military. The leader of the SMD is of the opinion that some complaints could be channelled through the chain of command as well as through the unions. One of the roles that the SMD sees for itself is to ensure the legality of the working contracts of its members. The SMD has cooperated in changes in the Defence Act. It was informed about the plans for restructuring the armed forces and
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abolishing conscription and it served as the internal communication channel for its members on the planned reforms. The syndicate was also consulted on the reforms, although the ministry authorities were not obliged to follow any of its suggestions (Interview with Major Konda, in Bric 2003: 14). Inevitably, the SMDP in its first months of existence was concerned with its own organisational problems. Nevertheless, the union has been active in discussing working conditions and employment rights with ministry authorities. It provides its own legal opinions to the authorities on problematical issues and also informs the authorities about the situation in military units (Novak 2005: 16). The SMDP also works to ensure that state legislation affecting civilian workers is applied to military personnel and other employees in the defence sector. In addition, since the laws for the defence sector and especially for the military limit some basic human rights (such as rights to be politically active and to strike) the union has taken some measures to obtain compensation for these restrictions. So far, Defence Act amendments in 2004 have officially recognised the restriction of the right to strike and compensated for this with a small increment. One of the important tasks of the union’s representatives is with regards to the disciplinary offences in the armed forces that are officially investigated by the chain of command, and the union has gained the right to represent its members during the disciplinary process. The Syndicate of Pilots of the Ministry of Defence came into being with a narrower mission than other unions. It strives mostly for improvements in safety and working conditions for military pilots. Because of the small size of its membership, officially it is unable to talk directly to the ministry, so the pilots’ union has taken the indirect way to reach its goals – through open letters and via the mass media. Today, trade unions in the defence sector are faced with several difficulties. Their effectiveness would be greater if they could combine their efforts and negotiate on behalf of all workers in the defence sector, with special focus on defence subgroups. Currently, the group of contracted soldiers are in the most difficult position and the unions need to work together to seek better terms and conditions of service and an appropriate policy on contract deadlines. In years to come, the issue of release will probably be the most complicated, because of the termination of the contracts of large numbers of privates recruited in 2003 and 2004. The way in which this generation of recruits is treated could influence the recruitment of new soldiers in the future. One of the most significant challenges for military unionism derives from the apathy of its membership. Many soldiers think that the unions are not negotiating on their behalf, because they believe that working conditions and the prestige of the military job are worsening, not improving. There is a perception that some decisions made by the employer are illegal, especially in the field of salary agreements. They feel that they need good lawyers to present their problems in an appropriate way. Indeed, when the SMDP did arrange for the help of one of the most prestigious law firms in Slovenia, the union was successful in its negotiations.
Military unionism in Slovenia 115 There are specific problems for the unions that derive from the deployment of service personnel on peacekeeping operations. For example, the Ministry of Defence does not pay the union membership dues of soldiers who are on deployment. In practice, this leads to the freezing of the union’s support for a soldier during a mission. This places those in command in an invidious position, because on the one hand, they have to fulfil their military duties and on the other, they belong to a union. Low level and medium level commanders, in particular, complain of the stress they are caused by these contradicting influences. Military unionism has also been indirectly connected with the prohibited political activities of some uniformed military personnel. When the unions succeeded in obtaining a financial supplement instead of having the right to strike, soldiers began to ask why they could not also have extra financial reward for the continuation of their apolitical stance. The relatively low effectiveness of the unions in negotiations on the restructuring of the military in the years 2002–2004 shows that the reformers did not take the soldiers’ interests into account, and additionally, that the soldiers are badly informed on future reforms. It seems that they have been misled when entering the military in terms of their contracts and what lies in store for them when they leave the military.
CONCLUSION The development of issues and the scope of negotiating activities of Slovenian military unions have been broadened since the formation of the first union in 1994. When it was established, the reputation of the union was high, but at that time the soldiers did not have many problems. Additionally, the union was perceived more as a part of the management structure than as an opposing force. The social organisation of the military was more institutional than occupational in terms of Moskos’s famous I/O model (Moskos and Wood 1988; Moskos et al. 2000). However, the restructuring processes, implemented in order to fulfil the standards to become a NATO member, changed the Slovenian Army from a predominantly home defence oriented conscript army into a peacekeeping professional army. In 2003, conscription was abolished and a new contract-based system of recruitment commenced. The government, as an employer, began reducing workers’ rights by limiting their opportunity to negotiate their working conditions, and narrowing the scope of issues subject to joint decision-making. This placed the unions in a radically different position and in order to gain the soldiers’ trust, they have had to fight for their interests almost like an opposition party against the government. Consequently, they are increasingly perceived by the state as an adversary and an element that damages the chain of command. The shift from an institutional to an occupational military has imposed more burdens on the soldiers. This orientation is more an excuse for decreasing the number of benefits, privileges and rewards given to soldiers in circumstances of growing numbers of military personnel. The military was able to stick to an
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institutional culture when it had a very low number of active members and the majority of personnel were conscripts. Currently, with almost 8,500 active members, the military cannot afford to improve working conditions for them all. Therefore, the occupational structure is an excellent scientific excuse for giving many soldiers more demanding work conditions, but with less benefits. On the other hand, soldiers as workers are also more individually orientated and wish to satisfy their personal interests without interference from the employer. They ask for higher salaries to cover the growing expenses of a military life, but refuse to accept the encroachment of the military institution into their family and leisure time activities. In circumstances where the employer would like to lower its obligations towards the soldiers, and the soldiers are not fully aware of their personal human rights, the military unions have to act as mediators between soldiers and the state. The main problem for soldiers is the short-term contract, because of which they usually do not have the time or energy to fight with the military organisation. Unlike the soldiers, the unions are more stable and long-term oriented and so they in a better position to negotiate the working conditions and human rights of current and future military personnel. The three unions that represent the military personnel in Slovenia are trying to organise soldiers on the basis of their status as public servants, which is given to them according to the Law on Public Servants. Their membership extends beyond the military, into the broader defence sector departments and is open to membership from the public. They negotiate the working conditions, salary grades, safety at work, protection of soldiers’ rights with the employer, and provide legal help to soldiers charged with military offences. Following the introduction of the allvolunteer force they became the main representative of the soldiers’ rights and interests; therefore, their influence and importance has increased since the first years of the new military establishment in Slovenia. However, in order to gain more benefits for soldiers, they will have to work together and not as competing forces. Their work is becoming more sensitive in dealing with the politicisation of soldiers. According to the Constitution and the Defence Act, soldiers are not allowed to be affiliated to political parties; therefore they are obliged to express their political interests through organisations that act as mediators between the personnel and the state. The unions are the most appropriate institution of this kind. It is interesting that the soldiers have not questioned the prohibition of their political rights in the past 14 years. It seems, however, that the reform in the manning system, from conscription to an all-volunteer force has created a growing political awareness among the soldiers who are now asking for financial compensation for prohibited political rights. It is also possible, of course that in the near future they will try to persuade the government to reconsider their position on soldiers’ political rights.
Notes 1 Secularisation of the military means that Slovenian military lost the status of a central nation institution, gained in June-July 1991 in the Ten-Day war against units of the Yugoslav People’s Army. The Territorial Defence Units, as the Slovenian military was
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2 3 4
5 6
officially named in 1991, together with police and unarmed civilians, victoriously finished the short war, and established their social and political legitimacy on the basis of successful armed clashes with opposing military. The UN arms embargo was approved by the UN Security Council Resolution 713 of 25 September 1991 and was lifted by the Security Council Resolution 1021 of 22 November 1995. Such a unit is the Multinational Land Force (MLF), a joined effort of Italian, Slovenian and Hungarian military, where the soldiers are trained together for rapid deployment in peace support operations. According to the Defence Act, the basic tasks of the SV are: preparing the soldiers for high readiness, defending the country, fulfilling the state’s obligations from bilateral and multilateral military agreements, cooperation in peace operations under UN mandate, and military assistance in cases of natural and other disasters. Zakon o javnih usluzˇ bencih. Ur.l. RS, 56/2002 (Law on Public Servants, Official Gazette of Republic of Slovenia, 56/2002). Zakon o obrambi, Ur.l. RS, 82/1994 (Defence Act); Zakon o spremembah in dopolnitvah zakona o obrambi (The Law on changes and amendments to the Defence Act), Ur.l. RS 47/2002.
References Bric, Roman, ‘Mocˇ sindikata je tudi v številu cˇ lanov’ (The power of syndicate is also in number of its members). Interview with Major Stanislav Konda, in Slovenska vojska, Volume XI/No. 4, 28 February 2003. Cˇ ernoga, Meta ‘Dobro ohranjeni vojak išcˇ e sluzˇ bo…’ (Soldier in a good shape seeks for job….), in Nedeljski Dnevnik, 17 April 2005, 2–3. Grmek, Meta ‘Sindikat VOZ na republiški ravni zˇ e reprezentativen’ (Syndicate of security, defence, and protection is representative at state level), Interview with Mileva Štukelj, in Slovenska vojska, Volume XIII/No. 1, 14 January 2005. Haltiner, Karl W. (1985) Milizarmee: Bürgerleitbild oder angeschlagenes Ideal? Frauenfeld: Verlag Huber: 39 Hostnik, Ivan (2002) ‘Participation in Peace Support Operations’, Slovenia and NATO, NATO’S NATIONS and Partners for Peace. Special Issue 1: 34. Kocbek, Darja (2005) ‘Slovenci so v sluzˇbi nezadovoljni’(Slovenians are dissatisfied in their working places). In Delo, 29 April: 13. Latawski, Paul (2005) ‘Bilateral and Multilateral Peacekeeping Units in Central and Eastern Europe’. In: D. S. Gordon and F. H. Toase (eds) (2005) Aspects of Peacekeeping. London, Portland: Frank Cass: 74. Moskos, Charles C. and Wood, Robert R. (1988) The Military More than Just a Job? Westpark Drive: Pergamon-Brassey’s International Defence Publishers. Moskos, Charles C., Segal, David R. and Williams, John A. (2000) The Postmodern Military Oxford: Oxford University Press. Novak, Bozo (2005) ‘Predstavitev sindikata vojske, obrambe in zašcˇite’ (Presentation of the Syndicate of security, defence and protection). Dialog, February: 16–17. Sporocˇilo za javnost o sklepih, ki jih je Vlada RS sprejela na 72. seji, 5.4.2002. Urad vlade za informiranje Republike Slovenije. (Public Communiqué on decisions of the Government of Republic of Slovenia from its 72nd.session, on 5th April 2002, Governmental Office for Information). Sindikat pilotov Ministrstva za obrambo (Syndicate of pilots from Ministry of Defence). Available HTTP: (Accessed 15.03.2005).
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The Present and the Future of the Military Profession in the Europe, ERGOMAS Survey. Carried out in Slovenia by Defence Research Centre, Faculty of Social Sciences, University of Ljubljana in 1993–1994. Archives of Defence Research Centre. Zakon o javnih usluzˇ bencih (Law on Public Servants), Ur.l. RS (Official Gazette of Republic of Slovenia), 56/2002. Zakon o obrambi (Defence Act). Ur.l. RS (Official Gazette of Republic of Slovenia) 82/1994. Zakon o spremembah in dopolnitvah zakona o obrambi (Act on Changes and Amendments to the Defence Act). Ur.l. RS (Official Gazette of Republic of Slovenia) 47/2002.
8
Unions in the Irish defence forces From struggle for representation to mutually beneficial cooperation Jean Callaghan*
INTRODUCTION Because the Republic of Ireland has been militarily neutral since the founding of the state, the Permanent Defence Forces of the Republic were never designed or intended for participation in the potential military conflict that loomed for so long between the North Atlantic Treaty Organisation and the Warsaw Pact. At the end of the Cold War, the Irish military did not face the kinds of pressure for force restructuring and downsizing that characterised the agenda for large continental European and North American armed forces. Although the Irish did not have a large standing army or huge surpluses of tanks and heavy equipment that was no longer needed, this did not mean that the Irish military would be able to avoid the sorts of reorganisation or personnel cuts that characterised most European military defence reform in the last decade of the twentieth century. In the late 1980s through the early 1990s, the Irish military came under strong pressure from three fronts. First, those serving in the military became increasingly dissatisfied with poor pay and conditions. Second, the military as a whole began to come under close scrutiny in an effort to reduce costs, which soon led to plans to cut manpower and close bases. Third, military service-members had no official outlet in which they could air their concerns or seek improvements. It was during this period of stressful change that the issue of military representative associations first came to the fore in Ireland.
PRECONDITIONS FOR FORMATION OF REPRESENTATIVE ASSOCIATIONS When looking back at the conditions that led to the formation of representative associations in Ireland, the analyst must be alert to the intertwined factors of Irish civil–military relations and military professional ethos, as well as the political and military history of the Irish state. All of these issues play an important role in this story. Let us begin with civil–military relations. For the most part, those serving in the military of the Republic of Ireland have always shared the same democratic
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rights that other Irish citizens enjoy. As in many European militaries, however, these rights are circumscribed to a certain extent for those serving on active duty. The Defence Acts, the Official Secrets Act, Irish military tradition, and the ‘oaths of fealty’ taken by those entering the military prohibit, inter alia, membership in political parties or engagement in political activities. Irish military regulations expressly prohibited the vast majority of those serving in the armed forces from ‘seeking publicity’ (i.e. contacting the press to discuss issues related to military service).1 This often meant that if the chain of command was unwilling to hear complaints or unable to act on macro problems like poor pay and conditions, Irish soldiers and officers had no official channels through which they could reach their policymakers or the Irish public to seek for redress, even for issues that could seriously and adversely affect their daily lives. At the same time, however, is important to note that – except for these limitations in publicising their opinions and articulating their concerns to the press – Ireland’s Permanent Defence Forces have long been characterised by a democratic professional structure, which nevertheless have had a high degree of discipline. For instance, soldiers have always been entitled to use standardised mechanisms to redress wrongdoing by their superiors in the forces through their chains of command and military regulations. Military traditions, ethos, and political customs also played a role in the events leading up to the formation of representative associations. Since the last days of the Irish Civil War and the establishment of the modern Irish state (in late 1922, early 1923 respectively), the defence forces have long prided themselves on their lack of any involvement in politics. Until the mid-to-late 1980s, there had never been even a suggestion of partiality in political matters on the part of the defence forces. Indeed, the organisational ethos has been so apolitical that, up until the events leading to the formation of the representative associations at the end of the 1980s, the Irish military still fostered a culture that held the view that ‘airing the military’s dirty laundry in public’ was just ‘not done’. This attitude had flourished for decades, even though the all-volunteer Irish army has always been well integrated into Irish society, living not on isolated military bases or in military enclaves, but rather in homes and apartments alongside their civilian counterparts. Irish service-members have – particularly in recent years – been drawn from all segments of society, and remain integrated members of the society, thus ensuring that their ties with the rest of Ireland are strong and well-rooted (Murphy 1998: 33–4). Despite this fact, however, military problems and concerns were viewed as almost private matters, not something to be discussed in public. Finally, the history of the Irish military played a role, as well. If indeed the Irish military was neither inclined nor allowed to be politically active or to publicise internal problems, how were elected representatives of the military able to change law and practice and establish legal military representative associations? A brief overview of the mission and history of the Republic’s armed forces up to this time is perhaps in order. Although the Irish military is best known outside the country for its contributions to United Nations peacekeeping operations, the de jure primary role of the Permanent Defence Forces of the Republic of Ireland has always
Unions in the Irish defence forces 121 been to defend the state against aggression. Despite its conventional structure, the primary role of the defence forces up until recently has been closer in nature to that of a garrison-based gendarmerie than a modern army. Because the country lacked external enemies, the need for a robust defence from an external threat was not taken seriously (except for a period during the Second World War). Most in Ireland believed that the country required little more than a small paramilitary force to quell civil disorder. Nevertheless, the Irish government believed it was necessary to maintain a standing army. Why? The answer probably lies in the historical background to the foundation of the Irish state. The perceived threat to the democratically elected government and the institutions of the state has almost always been greater from within the state than from any potential foreign aggressor. Since the founding of the Republic, the independent state of Ireland has never been invaded and its soldiers have not participated in any foreign wars. Therefore, it should perhaps not be surprising that security and defence matters are seldom topics of public debate; when these issues do arise, they are usually in the context of European integration and military neutrality. It should also be noted that, unlike most other European countries, the ministerial portfolio of defence is regarded as a minor cabinet post. Successive Ministers for Defence from different political backgrounds have not been known for their political dynamism or significant contribution to public debate on security or defence (Murphy 1998: 33–4). For many years, the lack of policy and debate on defence issues reflected a general lack of ideas and interest at all levels across the country.2 After the Second World War, the Irish military suffered from a lack of purpose and a certain ambiguity regarding its role. Ireland’s initial refusal to join NATO, largely on account of partition (i.e. the retention by the United Kingdom of Northern Ireland) and its adoption of a policy of military neutrality meant that the army was – at least at that time – denied any international role. This decision had serious implications for national defence. A policy of military neutrality requires that the state maintain a credible military deterrent. However, until recently, a country of Ireland’s size and resources could not afford the required investment in armed forces organised along conventional military lines. As a result, the defence forces became run down in the 1950s and early 1960s, encountering problems with equipment, morale, and even in provision of adequate training opportunities for its personnel. Things began to change for the better in the defence forces when Ireland began large-scale participation in UN peacekeeping operations in the 1960s. These operations resulted in vastly improved professional morale. Service on United Nations missions was popular with the service-members and prestigious in the eyes of the Irish people. More importantly for the organisation, perhaps, was the fact that participation in these operations lifted the military out of its thenroutine rut of ‘state ceremonials, guard duty, civilian emergencies, and horse shows’ (Keatinge 1978: 93). It is also generally accepted that deployment on UN peacekeeping operations considerably improved both training and morale in the defence forces.
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Another boost to the legitimacy of the defence forces came in the late 1960s through the 1970s. For much of the Republic’s history, and especially since the outbreak of para-military violence in Northern Ireland (known as ‘The Troubles’), ‘aid to the civil power’ – essentially a policing function – has been a crucial, high-priority task of the Irish military. As the Troubles in the North escalated, recruitment into the defence forces increased and the size of the military grew. Competence and familiarity with this mission of aid to the civil power, together with the defence forces’ emphasis on adaptability and ability to operate independently of large-scale supporting forces, combined to make the Irish forces highly suitable for traditional peacekeeping missions.
Struggle for representation Unfortunately, by the 1980s, Irish military service-members came upon hard times. Conditions for those serving in the military at the time were bleak, with poor pay and often-decrepit housing (Cusack 2002). Despite an improvement in the sort of missions and increased public support for the military over the past decades, by the late 1980s, many enlisted men as well as their families began to face serious financial difficulties. In 1987–88, service-members faced deteriorating working conditions and low salaries. Pay for the military hit at an all-time low in comparison with other civil servants in similar jobs, such as prison guards and the Garda (police); military working conditions were often deplorable and allowances for service-members fell further and further behind. This was due to a variety of reasons, including other, more popular legislative priorities, the lack of a united political voice for service-members, and military regulations prohibiting those in the forces from speaking to the press. In the face of growing financial hardship, it became increasingly clear that tensions and frustrations were rising and that action was needed. Many in the military – and their families – were frustrated by the fact that other armed governmental security forces in Ireland, such as the Gardai (police) and prison guards, were much better paid than the soldiers were, even though the military took the same and even more serious risks and – again unlike the other security forces – often had to deploy on overseas peacekeeping missions to foreign countries. Nevertheless, instead of increasing military pay to a level that approached parity with their civilian counterparts, the government took no such action to ameliorate the situation so military service-members had to continue their struggles to get by on far less generous wages. Because the military could not speak out on their own behalf, soldiers’ wives and chaplains were among the first to publicly sound the alarm that conditions in the armed forces were deteriorating. As military families increasingly had to struggle to make ends meet, many under the rank of sergeant were hit so hard that they had to apply for social welfare benefits (Carroll 1998). High operational tempo, because of peacekeeping commitments and aid to the civil power obligations, meant that fathers were often away from home, which also often exacerbated difficulties for military families. Military chaplains, aware of these problems,
Unions in the Irish defence forces 123 attempted to use the chain of command to help address the direst cases, but it was clear that – however well-intentioned and even occasionally successful the chaplains were – such piecemeal fixes would not improve this situation; some kind of systematic changes were necessary. Military wives turned out to be a far more effective lobbying group than the chaplains had been. They began by bringing attention to the plight of their husbands and families, first with demonstrations and marches in Dundalk, and then later across the entire country. The wives formed the National Army Spouses’ Association (NASA) and began an ambitious programme of marches, letter writing campaigns, television appearances, and other forms of lobbying on behalf of their husbands (PDFORRA 1999). The women in NASA were very effective in getting their message across; they not only persistently pointed out the differences in pay and conditions between the military and other public service sectors, but also built public sympathy and support by explaining to the press the sort of problems their husbands faced when their military superiors discovered that their wives were active in NASA. The wives reported that superior officers were calling in their husbands for ‘counselling’, where they received threats of extra duty and blocks to promotion. Many soldiers’ wives publicly claimed that these coercion and intimidation tactics were commonplace in the forces once a soldier’s wife was known to be active in the NASA movement. Because at the time, as mentioned above, discussing problems in the forces and arguing in public about military issues was both against regulations and Irish military culture (it is ‘not done’) the military establishment, particularly senior officers and the senior civilians at the Department of Defence, saw the wives’ efforts to bring the problems facing the soldiers into public view as offensive, distasteful, and inappropriate. The Irish military (like most military organisations) did not want these issues discussed or debated in the public realm. In an apparent effort to show the public that he was concerned, the Minister for Defence declared that although there were problems, they were not widespread, and were soon to be remedied. This declaration was not seen to be credible, especially as it came on the heels of the Brady Commission (Department of Defence 1988), a government investigation into military conditions that was widely seen as a whitewash. Indeed, reporting on this Ministry of Defence response only made protests louder. The wives, determined not to be ignored, continued their battle, for instance, marching on the Irish Parliament; they even found candidates to stand for office in the general election, influencing the outcome of at least one race.3 As this NASA offensive was being pushed forward, some of those serving in the military decided to risk taking action, as well. Frustrated with their continuing plight, and cognisant of the fact that other groups in Ireland had successfully improved their working conditions and pay because of the work of well-organised lobbying groups, a small number of activist NCOs unofficially drew up a proposal for a defence forces representative association, which they circulated by hand throughout all of the Irish barracks. They did this in spite of defence forces regulations prohibiting political activity because they believed, based upon Article
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40 of the Irish Constitution, that even those serving in the military were allowed the right of association. By 11 November 1989, one group, ad hoc PDFORRA (Permanent Defence Forces Other Ranks Representative Association) had already established itself and met in County Cork, where it decided, as the ad hoc national executive body, that it would announce its existence as an association from that day under the provisions of Article 40 of the Constitution. One of the first orders of business was to meet in Dublin with the roughly 40 activists elected to represent the different barracks and to seek legal advice on how to form a representative association. At the same time, the organisers of ad hoc PDFORRA contacted EUROMIL, the European Association of Military Associations, which offered the Irish soldiers aid, advice, and moral support. The Irish representatives of ad hoc PDFORRA who met with EUROMIL supported its fundamental principles; more importantly, perhaps, the Irish servicemembers understood that these principles would be suitable for a potential Irish military representative association and would appeal to the democratic values of the Irish public. These principles are outlined in the following paragraphs: … all member associations from EUROMIL consider themselves committed to the principle of the Citizen in Uniform. This means that the serviceman has, in principle, the same rights and obligations as any other citizen. A serviceman, who must defend the rights and freedoms of his fellow citizens outside his own national territory, must be entitled to enjoy and make use of these same rights and freedoms in service. This principle requires action by states: the removal of all restrictions on civil and social rights, which do not inevitably result from the military assignment and the constitution of the state in question. Associations made up of servicemen and therefore of responsible citizens in uniform form the basis for fair and active participation in the political life of their countries. One of the central concerns of EUROMIL is to put through the right of association for all active servicemen in Europe. This fundamental human right, which servicemen of all rank and status groups should enjoy, is still not granted in some countries in Europe and member states of the North Atlantic Alliance. Article 23, (4), of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights of the United Nations says: ‘Everyone has the right to form and to join trade associations for the protections of his interests.’ EUROMIL asserts the right to found associations or unions in order to represent social interests (the right of association) and advocates that this practice of association activity has to be anchored in the appropriate national and international laws, agreements and conventions for all servicemen. The right of association includes the right to found an association, the freedom to belong to it, and the possibility of this association and of its members to act in and on behalf of the association. The right to represent social interests in an association includes not only the right and freedom of founding associations with the aim of safeguarding and furthering the economic and labour
Unions in the Irish defence forces 125 conditions, but also of joining this association and acting in and on behalf of the association. It includes also the freedom of setting up the statutes and articles of the association. The right of association can be restricted by a prohibition to strike for political reasons. The member associations from EUROMIL resign from the right to strike. (EUROMIL 2003) The struggle for representation reached a critical hurdle soon after delegates of the Irish military attended a EUROMIL conference in Denmark, where Warrant Officer Michael Martin held a press conference about the plight of the soldiers in Ireland. This press conference was covered by the news media at home, where the military authorities saw it to be in direct contravention of the defence forces regulation prohibiting military members from seeking publicity. According to The Irish Times, Martin and his colleagues from ad hoc PDFORRA initially faced dismissal from service or even imprisonment as their activities were viewed as contrary to rules of discipline. ‘The military hierarchy was set against the granting of negotiating rights to any representative group for service personnel. It was reasoned that soldiers would eventually seek trade-union status and might even strike rather than obey orders’ (Cusack 2000a). Upon his return to Ireland from Denmark, Martin learned that the threat of court martial, dismissal from service, discharge, or even imprisonment was hanging over his head (and the heads of the other activist NCOs) as their organising in the barracks was viewed as contrary to the rules of discipline. The Irish Times later wrote, ‘The military hierarchy was set against the granting of negotiating rights to any representative group for service personnel. It was reasoned that soldiers would eventually seek trade-union status and might even strike rather than obey orders’ (Cusack 2003). Because his situation was beginning to look so dire, Martin therefore sought support for his position through the court system. Luckily for Martin, however, the government was starting to realise that the majority of the public supported the soldiers and their fight. Despite grumbles and whispered threats against Martin and the others NCOs, the government then played an unexpected card, surprising Martin and the other representatives of ad hoc PDFORRA by abruptly sending two Members of Parliament to meet with them. After prolonged, all-night discussions, the threats to Martin and the other NCOs were dropped and agreement was reached that there was merit to the establishment of organisations like PDFORRA. As a result of these negotiations, an amendment to the Defence Act was passed in 1990, which allowed the establishment of representative associations for those serving in the defence forces. Representation was now legally allowed for all ranks. Soon thereafter, the Representative Association for Commissioned Officers (RACO) was also established. Currently, representative associations are allowed to submit proposals on welfare, pay, and conditions for independent adjudication but are prohibited from making submissions on matters of discipline, operations and command. Representative associations were also prohibited from association with organisations outside of the defence forces and would not have the right to strike (Department of Defence 1991).
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IRISH MILITARY TODAY: EFFECTIVE, SUCCESSFUL COLLABORATION WITH REPRESENTATIVE ASSOCIATIONS The roles of the Irish military have not changed significantly since the end of the Cold War. Today, the primary roles of Ireland’s Permanent Defence Forces are: • • • • •
To defend the State against armed aggression; this being a contingency, preparations for its implementation will depend on an on-going Government assessment of the security and defence environment. To aid the civil power (meaning in practice to assist, when requested, the Garda Síochána, who have primary responsibility for law and order, including the protection of the internal security of the State). To participate in multinational peace support, crisis management and humanitarian relief operations in support of the United Nations and under UN mandate, including regional security missions authorised by the UN. To provide a fishery protection service in accordance with the State’s obligations as a member of the EU. To carry out such other duties as may be assigned to them from time to time, e.g. search and rescue, air ambulance service, Ministerial air transport service, assistance on the occasion of natural or other disasters, assistance in connection with the maintenance of essential services, assistance in combating oil pollution at sea. (Department of Defence 2005)
Primary emphasis remains on aid to the civil power and to missions in support of the United Nations and more recently, the European Union and Partnership for Peace, such as provisions of peacekeeping units and participation as military observers in conflict zones. As of April 2005, the Permanent Defence Forces had approximately 750 members serving overseas in peacekeeping missions and as military observers. The two largest troop missions are in Liberia, to which an infantry battalion and headquarters staff with 440 has been deployed for UNMIL, and to Kosovo, where approximately 208 Irish service-members are deployed with KFOR. The Defence Forces also have personnel deployed in support of missions in Afghanistan (ISAF), the United Nations Troop Supervision Organisation in the Middle East (UNTSO), and Bosnia (EUFOR). Further, personnel from the defence forces are also serving in Sri Lanka, the Democratic Republic of Congo, Ivory Coast, Georgia, and Cyprus as observers and staff officers in multinational headquarters. Since the outset of Irish participation in UN peace operations, 85 Irish service-members have died in service to their country overseas. All of these overseas missions have to be performed with reduced manpower. Not only have overall manpower numbers been cut, but the defence forces also rely solely upon volunteers to man its peacekeeping forces and observer missions. In a time of reduced manpower and concurrently high operation tempo, the potential for friction and discontent increases. This situation begs the question: How
Unions in the Irish defence forces 127 did the new representative associations fare once they were allowed to legally negotiate on behalf of their members? Writ large, representation in Ireland has been a success story. Although there have been times since the founding of PDFORRA and RACO when managementassociation relations were strained, there is in general also considerably more consultation, openness, and trust on all levels. Initially, in the early days of representation, there was – particularly on the part of the officer corps – a sense of distrust and concerns about the possibility of all sorts of management confrontations with the representative associations. Over the years, however, there has been, in the words of one officer, a ‘wonderful growth of mutual understanding’ in the military thanks to the hard work of good faith negotiations between the representative associations and management. It is well known that grievances and mistrust in military units often stem from a lack of information on both sides as well as a perception of management secrecy about plans for the future. In today’s Irish military, commanders have learned that representation facilitates a better understanding of the point of view of other ranks and increases officers’ ability to recognise potential problems in the making. On the enlisted side, representation has meant higher pay, better treatment, and improved working conditions. As a result of regular negotiations between representatives and management as well as general goodwill on both sides, there is also a cooperative spirit of increased mutual confidence. From an officer’s perspective, it is often the case that half the battle of dealing with problems is understanding the situation from the viewpoint of the soldiers. One of the lessons learned since the implementation of representation is that management had to become more pro-active and open in its dealings with the troops. It is not uncommon nowadays for representatives of management to speak with representatives of PDFORRA and RACO before going ahead with proposed changes in order to find out how the changes would be perceived by soldiers and officers. In return, soldiers’ suspicions of management’s motives have declined. What are some concrete indicators of this increased trust and better pay and conditions? Let us begin with PDFORRA. As a general principle, the leadership of PDFORRA would describe itself as very similar to a trade union – even a part of the labour movement – although the law places restrictions on the organisation, which differentiates it from a trade union (i.e. various employment and/or industrial relations legislation does not apply to the defence forces). While it is rare for either PDFORRA (or RACO, for that matter) to pursue a case for an individual unless that individual’s case represents a general principle affecting many in the military, this sort of union-like representation of an individual can happen. In general, however, for isolated cases of alleged management wrongdoing to an individual, there is a well-established grievance procedure that can be utilised, therefore representative associations generally encourage members to pursue grievances through official channels. Representative associations may, however, on a case-by-case basis, offer assistance in the formulation of a grievance or provide advice on how best to work within the system. Within the context of the
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military’s Conciliation and Arbitration scheme, both PDFORRA and RACO may submit claims to the Conciliation Council. If no agreement can be reached in a major case, the plaintiff can sometimes turn to an arbitration board;4 smaller cases can be referred to an adjudicator for resolution. RACO, on the other hand, eschews comparisons to traditional trade unions. Instead, RACO likens itself to a professional association, like a medical association for physicians or a bar association for attorneys. Instead of involving themselves in ‘bread and butter’ issues like pay and allowances, RACO concerns itself with improving the organisation through proposing improved systems and processes. One of RACO’s proudest achievements to date, for instance, has been forwarding a RACO-devised proposal that was later adopted for regularising and standardising officer promotion criteria. RACO also sees its role as intervening at the national level on large-scale issues of importance to those in the defence forces. For example, one of the first major challenges for the new representative associations was the restructuring and downsizing – in both personnel strength and in number of barracks – of the Irish armed forces. Three initiatives launched by the civilian Department of Defence caused considerable controversy among both officer and enlisted ranks in the early years of PDFORRA and RACO. The first was the controversial 1994 study by the consulting firm Price-Waterhouse, which had been commissioned by the Minister for Defence to look into the cost efficiency of the defence forces. The study’s leaked results strongly criticised the Irish military and called for many serious changes in the military’s way of doing business. Price-Waterhouse described the defence forces as, inter alia, ‘badly structured, too old, poorly trained, and inappropriately equipped’ (Irish Times, 1994). This evaluation was controversial at the time, largely because of charges that the opinions and expertise of the general staff and the officer corps had not been sufficiently sought or considered. After the dust settled, there was general agreement that neglect over many years by successive governments had led to unfortunate deficiencies in structures, training and equipment. These problems were also evident to members of the defence forces,5 but there was nevertheless resentment that all viewpoints had not been taken into account by Price-Waterhouse and the Minister. At the next stage in the reorganisation process, RACO was able to successfully lobby to influence the outcome of the subsequent Defence Forces Review Implementation Plan; many of their suggestions were included and the Plan’s conclusions were later adopted (Department of Defence 1996). The original plans for the February 2000 White Paper on Defence had called for deep cuts in both barracks and manpower, upsetting the officer corps and general staff, who had once again felt that they had not been adequately consulted in the process. RACO, however, because of its new negotiation responsibilities, was able to lobby for changes. They fought to limit barracks closures and especially to minimise personnel cuts; although the number of barracks finally designated for closure was lower than the original proposal, RACO was more successful with the latter issue. Initially, the authorised manpower strength of the defence forces was to have been cut from
Unions in the Irish defence forces 129 approximately 14,500 men to about 8,000 but RACO was able to positively influence the negotiations to save jobs and protect the organisation’s ability to fulfil its responsibilities, holding the number at about 10,500 men. Other key victories were in the area of increased pay and allowances. PDFORRA was also able to procure improvements in working conditions as well as special pay rates for overseas service, service in the army ranger wing, and border duty. PDFORRA has recently succeeded in its initiative to appoint an Ombudsman for the military. Legislation has been approved and the hiring process, as of this writing in April 2005, is underway.
CONCLUSIONS The successful establishment of (now statutory) PDFORRA and RACO was a major achievement for those serving in the defence forces. Despite opposition from the military leadership and from the civilians in the Department of Defence, a group of soldiers and their wives were able to assert their rights and create a new avenue made up of democratically elected officials to address complaints and problems related to service in the defence forces. Since the founding of PDFORRA, for instance, the organisation has reached more than 200 formal agreements related to pay and conditions with the Irish government and military leadership. Written, formal agreements have been drawn up between PDFORRA and the military on the national level; there are many additional side agreements on the local level. It is not unusual to see a reasonably well-functioning committee to address from 20 to 40 issues per year on a local level. RACO has had similar successes. Approximately 90 per cent of all enlisted people are members of PDFORRA and almost 100 per cent of officers are members of RACO. PDFORRA and RACO have established cooperative and synergistic relationships with the officer corps, the Minister for Defence, and the Department of Defence. PDFORRA, in particular, has been tremendously well received by the rank and file, as this association has finally given enlisted personnel their first chance in 60 years to positively influence conditions, pay and terms of service. Instead of the old practice of the chaplain going to commanding officers on his own initiative to ‘tell tales out of school’, those serving in the Irish military now have an elected representative with statutory rights to go to their commanding officer to resolve issues. Because almost all officers under flag rank are members of RACO, and all serving generals today are former members, there is an understanding on the part of the officer corps, as well, of the value of representative associations. As a general principle, most officers now agree that – although in their role of commanders, representation sometimes makes their work a little harder – in the long run, representation has made the Irish defence forces a better organisation, with more mutual trust and understanding. On the national level, PDFORRA and RACO fight for the interests of servicemembers and the good of the military organisation as a whole. On top of the
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successful work done by the representative associations to ameliorate conditions for their active duty members in the areas of pay, restructuring, officer promotion, and barracks closures enumerated above, in recent years, pensions for veterans were increased by almost 14 per cent due to PDFORRA interventions. Finally, Irish representative associations are active internationally. For instance, PDFORRA and RACO have, in concert with Irish governmental efforts, led EUROMIL in advancing the Convention on the Safety of UN and Associated Personnel by lobbying governments in Europe and across the world to ratify the Convention, which gives international legal protection to UN peacekeepers and NGO workers in the field.
Notes * The opinions expressed in this chapter are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect those of the Irish, US, or any other government or governmental institution. The author would like to express her gratitude to Ray Murphy of the National University of Ireland at Galway and Ollie O’Connell of PDFORRA for the information they shared with me as well as for their generosity in clarifying details of Irish military service and administration. I would also like to thank Lieutenant-Colonel Brian O’Keefe of RACO and Colonel Oliver A. K MacDonald (retired) for their expertise and insights. Finally, I would like to express my gratitude to Andrew Verrall for his careful reading and suggestions for improvement. Any errors in analysis or fact are of course solely mine. 1. Seeking publicity is still prohibited today. 2. More recently, the formation of representative associations and the publication of Strategy Statements, Annual Reports, and the White Paper have improved this situation, but the overall level of public debate and knowledge about the armed forces and conditions in them remains very low. 3. The women in NASA who stood for election had cleverly targeted constituencies with heavy concentrations of military personnel and their spouses, such as Counties Kildare, Longford/Westmeath, and Cavan/Monaghan, where traditionally a large part of the army’s vote has gone to Fianna Fáil. The women’s decision to stand for election was crucial for both the public and government to come to realise that the situation in the Defence Forces was becoming a serious problem. Following a successful run in County Kildare – one Member of Parliament lost a seat, it was believed, because of the presence of a NASA candidate on the ballot (though she did not gain it) – the government began to take the issue seriously. 4. Not all claims placed before Conciliation Council are eligible for arbitration; claims that are eligible mainly involve remuneration or expenditure in some manner. 5. In addition, the Report of the Commission on Remuneration and Conditions of Service in the Defence Forces was a damning indictment of not just pay and conditions, but also bureaucratic and ineffective structures, and a remarkably militarily ineffective organisation.
References Defence Forces Printing Press (2000) ‘The Defence Forces Overseas’. Cusack, J. (2002) ‘A Tireless Advocate for Soldiers’, Irish Times, 8 January. ——— (2003) ‘Interpersonal Relationships in the Defence Forces: Defence Forces Policy and Procedures Dealing with Sexual Harassment, Harassment and Bullying (Administrative Instruction A7, Chapter 1)’.
Unions in the Irish defence forces 131 Department of Defence (1988) Report of The Interdepartmental Committee on Defence Forces Pay, Allowances and Conditions, Chaired by Mr Vincent Brady, Minister of State at the DOD, Dublin, Department of Defence. ——— (1991) Defence Force Regulations. S.6. Representative Associations. First Edition, Dublin, Stationery Office. ——— (1996) Defence Forces Review Implementation Plan. Dublin, Department of Defence. ——— (2005) ‘The Irish Defence Forces’, April. Available from HTTP: Euromil (2003) ‘What is Euromil?’ Brussels. Available from HTTP: Irish Times, ‘Chief of Staff is concerned that report may have damaged morale. Consultants’ leaked recommendations for revamping Defence Forces seen as “impractical”’, 10 August 1994. Keatinge, P. A. (1978) A Place Among the Nations: Issues of Irish Foreign Policy, Dublin: Institute of Public Administration. Murphy, R. (1994) ‘Ireland: Legal Issues Arising from Participation in United Nations Operations’, International Peacekeeping (Kluwer), Vol. 1, (2), pp. 61–4. —— (1998) ‘Ireland, the United Nations, and Peacekeeping Operations’, International Peacekeeping, Vol. 5 (1), Spring, pp. 33–4. —— (2003) ‘EU Bewildered by Ireland’s Attitude to Peacekeeping Force in Macedonia’, The Irish Times, 25 March. PDFORRA: Ten Years On (1999) Video: Researched and produced by Michael O’Brien. Dublin, Ireland, Young Communications.
9
The Armed Forces Federation of Australia The union that isn’t a union Hugh Smith
The Australian Defence Force (ADF) is small by world standards but, like other all-volunteer forces, must ensure adequate recruitment and retention, provide reasonable pay and conditions on a limited budget, and balance the needs of individual members and families against service requirements. In the past such matters were largely left to military leaders and to governments. Since adoption of the all-volunteer force in 1972, however, this paternalist approach has been much diminished by a variety of factors, including the emergence of more complex and institutionalised processes for determining pay and conditions, organisational change in the ADF, shifting attitudes on the part of service personnel, and broader political, social and strategic developments. Significant changes towards a more occupational military have occurred across the board – for example, admission of women to combat-related roles, abolition of the ban on homosexuals and active recruitment of ethnic minorities. Even the setting of pay and conditions has come to resemble the civilian process in some respects while service members have become more aware of their rights as individuals. Yet the ADF has not proved fertile ground with regard to the collective representation of the interests of military personnel. This is so despite the obvious and enduring disadvantages of military employment such as the absence of a normal contract and of ‘overtime’ payments, lack of industrial bargaining power and restrictions on second jobs (Downes 1988: 25). All of which might be expected to stimulate greater interest in unionism of some kind. This chapter first examines the paternalist approach that prevailed from 1901, when Australia came into being and national military forces were created, up to the adoption of the all-volunteer force in 1972. It then looks at the period up to the end of the Cold War which in 1984 saw the establishment of a formal wagedetermination process for the ADF, namely the Defence Force Remuneration Tribunal (DFRT), and the Armed Forces Federation of Australia (ArFFA). A final section examines in more detail the impact of the end of the Cold War and the factors currently shaping personnel policies in order to assess the place of collective representation in the ADF.
PATERNALISM: 1901–1972 In the 72 years between its foundation in 1901 and 1972, Australia was at war for about half the time. World Wars I and II were major commitments which saw
Military collectivism in Australia 133 the emergence of the ‘digger tradition’ – the idea that war is primarily a matter for ordinary Australians who voluntarily take up arms when their country needs them. Two attempts to introduce conscription in World War I were rejected by referendum, and compulsory service was adopted in World War II only for service in direct defence of Australia. The decision to serve was seen as a test of individual integrity, rather than a matter for governments. Nor did the Australian soldier think much about his political and civil rights at this time. He expected fair treatment and complained vocally if necessary, but gave no thought to setting up a union of any kind. In the period 1919–39 a small full-time Army was maintained, essentially to provide a cadre for expansion. Regarded with some suspicion by the community, members suffered poor conditions of service, and time for promotion from one rank to the next often exceeded a decade. Though the Army had a strong tradition of officers looking after their men, in the Royal Australian Navy superiors were often indifferent to the harsh conditions faced by subordinates. At least 11 instances of mutiny occurred in times of peace and war before 1972 (Frame and Baker 2000: x). There was simply no mechanism outside the chain of command by which individuals with grievances could get themselves heard. Most ‘mutineers’ were simply young men who mistakenly and naively believed that refusing duties would lead to settlement of their complaints (Frame and Baker 2000: 261). A regular standing Army was not established until 1947 but from 1950 onwards the armed forces were more or less continuously occupied with war fighting until 1972, making significant contributions to the Korean War, the Malayan Emergency, Confrontation with Indonesia and the Vietnam War (the first and only time that Australia has sent conscripts to an overseas conflict). Much of the citizen-soldier tradition remained. Soldiers were doing their bit for the community which, it was assumed, would support them appropriately during and after their service. Similarly, officers were expected to uphold the tradition of looking after their men. Add to this a sense of loyalty to the military as an institution, and personnel simply gave no thought to organising themselves to promote their interests. Conditions of service before 1972 were set in largely ad hoc fashion. Requests for improvements were usually generated in the military chain of command, a process known as ‘managerial advocacy’ (Pratt 1987: 324). This was sometimes supplemented by lobbying on the part of a veterans’ organisation, then known as the Returned Services League which had its origins in World War I, and, from 1959, of a Regular Defence Force Welfare Association. Governments would respond positively or negatively, on occasion establishing a committee to examine a particularly complex (or expensive) set of proposals. These committees of inquiry refused to accept submissions from any organisation claiming to represent service personnel (Pratt 1987: 325). Nonetheless, some attempt was made to achieve comparability with civilian occupations. ‘Professionals’ such as engineers obviously needed to be paid in line with civilian counterparts. A soldier’s basic pay was set at the minimum wage in the Public Service minus the value of rations and quarters and the savings made on clothes by having uniforms provided. Civilian rates of pay, it is important to note, were largely determined by a uniquely Australian wage-fixing system. In the 1890s bitter strikes, notably
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by shearers and seamen, had involved the military as de facto strike-breakers (Coulthard-Clark 1981: 72–4). The resultant widespread anxiety in the community helped convince the new federal government to seek social justice between employers and employees through argument and arbitration rather than confrontation. In 1904–5 what became the Industrial Relations Commission was created. Its members had the status and title of judges and heard disputes between employers and employees. Representatives of each side, employer organisations and trade unions, presented their case in a courtroom atmosphere. Decisions of the Commission were legally binding and took on particular importance in cases such as setting a national minimum wage. The idea of a similar Commission to determine military pay and conditions was a long way off. In this period the process of setting military pay and conditions remained distinct, unsystematic and paternalist. It was often slow to catch up with civilian standards and reluctant to accept the idea of additional payment for technical skills which might upset established internal relativities. A harsh but not wholly inaccurate assessment depicts the process as ‘deprivation until a national scandal was caused by excessive wastage’, followed by a Commission set up to investigate and report, ‘producing a major palliative before a restart to the cycle of neglect’ (Hogan 1989: 12).
REFORMS AND INITIATIVES: 1972–1989 In 1972 a Labor (left-wing) government was elected for the first time in 23 years. It promptly withdrew the small number of Australian troops still engaged in Vietnam and abolished the controversial conscription scheme that since 1964 had selected a minority of 18-year old males for full-time service by ballot. Despite the growing unpopularity of the war at home, there was no history of military activism or ‘resistance’ over Vietnam apart from isolated individuals. In this regard Australia was ‘the dog that didn’t bark’ (Cortright and Watts 1991: 91–4). Administrative decisions ensured that the few personnel strongly opposed to the war were not sent to Vietnam. Though conscript and professional soldiers fought well in Vietnam, the Australian community did not make them welcome on their return. A Vietnam Veterans’ Association was set up by individual initiative since neither the government nor existing organisations seemed to pay adequate attention to the effects of Agent Orange and post-traumatic stress disorder among those returned from Vietnam. For some years the military experienced a degree of isolation and neglect, and a sense that they had lost their proper status in the community (see Harries-Jenkins 1977: 61). No welcome home parade was held until 1987 – a gap of 15 years. Numbers in the all-volunteer force after 1972 stabilised around 70,000 fulltime personnel (until 1990) and conditions of service became a major issue for government given the need to attract and retain volunteers. In place of ad hoc procedures an independent Committee of Reference for Defence Force Pay was
Military collectivism in Australia 135 established in 1973 chaired by a Deputy President of the Industrial Relations Commission (then known as the Conciliation and Arbitration Commission which set civilian pay rates) together with another Commissioner and a retired senior military officer. Operating independently of government, the Committee conducted several major inquiries, taking submissions from individual service personnel, commissioning surveys of opinion on pay and related matters, and issuing public reports (for a more detailed history, see Jauncey (1983): 40–5). More participatory than their predecessors, these inquiries still declined to accept collective submissions and could be initiated only by the Minister for Defence to whom recommendations were made for final decision. Across the board pay increases were achieved, together with an improved retirement scheme with benefits after 20 years service rather than at age retirement, wider eligibility for housing loans and a re-engagement bonus for other ranks. A Service Allowance was also awarded to all ranks except senior officers to compensate for the disabilities of military life, including unpaid ‘overtime’ and absence from families. Specialised allowances were also approved for the purpose of recruitment and retention, e.g. a submarine allowance in 1979. A simplified pay structure reflected civilian rates and made comparison easier. The system of pay setting appeared to be working more effectively but the challenge was a continuing one as incomes rose in the community and industry competed for skilled personnel.
Moves to create a union The Committee of Reference operated until 1984 but clearly did not satisfy everyone in the Defence Force. In the early 1970s moves were made to create an organisation of military personnel that would be able to advocate on behalf of service members. Importantly, the Labor government elected in 1972 looked favourably on the idea of collective representation on matters of pay and conditions, and the Defence Minister, Lance Barnard, actually initiated such a proposal at an Army Legal Corps conference in 1972 (Gowans 1986: 24). With the West German model in mind, Barnard stipulated that membership should be voluntary and open to all ranks, and that the organisation should focus on pay and conditions with a commitment against industrial action. The idea met some opposition from a peak body, the Australian Confederation of Trade Unions, which was headed by Bob Hawke (later elected Labor Prime Minister in 1983). A military union, he believed, had no place in the wider union movement. It could not act like a traditional union and its membership would be strongly conservative (Ballantyne 1983: 5). Many in the union movement, moreover, were antipathetic to Defence, seeing it as a bastion of conservatism and a competitor against welfare in the national budget. The government remained open to the idea but wanted the impetus to come from serving members. In mid-1974 a small group of officers led by a retired Army officer, sought to establish a union along the lines suggested by Barnard. In short order the Australian Armed Services Association was formed with a focus
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on conditions of service and ‘welfare functions’ together with ‘general matters of national defence’. It attracted little support inside or outside the military. This was due in part to the fact that the organisers, who had sought approval from the Defence hierarchy, ‘were promptly identified and posted far away from each other’ (Frame and Baker 2000: 263). High-level military opposition thus removed the issue from the agenda for the time being. In the early 1980s, however, a deep and widespread discontent over conditions of service emerged within the ADF. The government had instituted a pay pause in 1980 along with other budget-cutting measures and it resisted and delayed recommendations for increases in military remuneration. Towards the end of 1982 a national wage freeze was decreed which seemed to end all hopes service personnel had for special treatment. Particularly galling was the fact that civilian public servants in Defence had adroitly managed to win a pay rise before the freeze (Gowans 2005). Adding to this general discontent were specific instances of poor conditions of service such as the state of lower ranks’ housing on certain bases and complaints that legitimate entitlements had been unfairly denied by public servants (ArFFA 1994: 25). More broadly, there was a sense that the government – and senior officers – had let down those in uniform. Existing processes had failed to ensure that personnel were fairly rewarded for their efforts and sacrifices compared with those in civilian occupations. Paternalism could no longer be relied upon. Military personnel gave vent to a sense of frustration with comments such as: ‘unless we have a representative point of view we get nothing’ and ‘we are being outstripped by militant civilians’ (cited Hogan 1989: 15). The tradition of ‘silent services’, a retired naval officer argued, needed to give way to a greater readiness among personnel to press their concerns on government (Grazebrook 1983: 46). An extensive survey of officer attitudes in 1983 found very high support for collective representation of some kind (Pratt 1986: 295–7; Jans 1988: 213–14; Jans 1988a: 251–3).1 This contrasted with minority support recorded in 1979 (Gowans 1986: 25). The strong collective sense of unfair treatment among ADF personnel now seemed to make formation of a union inevitable.
New institutions The Labor government, newly elected in 1983 with Bob Hawke as Prime Minister, was sensitive to these problems. Its election platform had proposed a number of measures to assist military personnel and it set about creating two new institutions in 1984. One was the office of Defence Force Ombudsman (DFO) whose role was to deal with complaints by individual serving and retired personnel about administrative matters such as claims for allowances, objections to discharge and annual assessments (Jordan 1986).2 Another was a fundamental change in the procedures for determining service pay and conditions through the establishment of a Defence Force Remuneration Tribunal (DFRT). There was even some thought given at this time to handing over military pay determination to the civilian Industrial Relations Commission (Pratt 1987: 332).
Military collectivism in Australia 137 The chair of the DFRT was to be a senior member of the Commission, sitting with a person experienced in industrial relations and a retired member of the Defence Force. The Tribunal would hear arguments for and against increases in military pay and conditions and make final determinations. Proceedings were to be open, adversarial and court-like, with decisions based on industrial relations guidelines prevailing in the community. The argument for improvements in pay and conditions was to be presented by the Chief of Defence Force (CDF) through the new office of Defence Force Advocate (usually a senior lawyer with industrial relations experience) while the opposing case would be presented by the Department of Industrial Relations (now the Department of Workplace Relations) representing the government as employer. Though the DFRT resembled its civilian counterpart in appearance, reality was rather different. In place of trade unions and employer groups each representing their own memberships, the Tribunal heard arguments put by the CDF and the Department of Industrial Relations, both of whom could be seen as representing the government in one way or another (Averay 1994: 10). The position of the CDF was particularly invidious since he was responsible for (a) the morale and well-being of those under his command, including their pay and conditions; (b) remaining within the budget determined by government; and (c) ensuring the desired operational capability was achieved. Difficult trade-offs needed to be made between pay increases (however well-deserved), budgetary limits and military effectiveness. By contrast, pay increases awarded to civilian public servants do not mean, for example, reductions in social security payments. As a parliamentary inquiry put it, the CDF is in the position of serving as ‘the leading representative of both employees and management’ (Commonwealth Parliament 1988: 270). This conflict of interest, many have argued, inevitably restrains the CDF in openly pushing for pay increases.3 In these circumstances it is clearly difficult for him to retain the confidence of subordinates. Nor are the views of personnel heard in any systematic way. Consultation on pay and conditions is at best informal and unorganised. It has been characterised by the Federation as commanding officers asking subordinates at drinks on Friday afternoon to ‘put your hands up if you want a pay rise’ (Howatt 2004). Against this view, the traditional military assumption is that commanders at all levels are accustomed to balancing the demands of operations against the welfare and morale of those under their command (Anderson 1997: 30). In the case of pay and conditions, moreover, it is a balancing act that must be done in full public view. Yet it is also the case that difficulties would arise in having the Armed Forces Federation act as the principal representative of service personnel before the DFRT. For one thing, it means the CDF has to abandon his responsibility for an important aspect of the morale and well-being of the ADF; for another, ArFFA has very limited membership and few resources (Barry 1995: 30). The latter problem may be helped by seconding personnel to the Association which might also increase its membership through its new role. As things stand, the current compromise is that DFRT grants leave to ArFFA to appear in cases as an ‘intervener’ along with other interested organisations. The
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Association was heard in the DFRT’s first case in 1985 and has been given leave each time it has sought to appear. There are evidently no simple solutions to the problem of representing service personnel on a collective basis in a hierarchical, command-based organisation.
Formation of the Armed Forces Federation of Australia The prospect of having some role in the DFRT encouraged those contemplating the formation of a military association in 1984 but the principal driver remained widespread discontent in the ADF.4 The government was not opposed to such a development, having set out the right of military personnel to form an association to deal with pay and conditions of service in its election platform. But the initiative still needed to come from service personnel themselves. Learning from the lessons of 1974, the initiators of the new Association, led by two Air Force officers based in Canberra, prepared the ground discreetly and carefully (ArFFA 1994). They had real concern that senior officers might order them to desist, or disrupt their activities by posting them away from Canberra. Also important was the need to protect the organisation from hi-jack by more radical elements. A constitution for the proposed organisation was drawn up in advance of any public move. Taking advice from the Police Federation and consulting with senior officers, its authors designed it to be moderate and inclusive. The organisation would be open to all serving members, including reservists; branches were to be formed around the country on a geographic rather than unit basis; and procedures would be openly democratic with an executive representative of all ranks and services. Like any union, it would focus on pay and conditions for its members and it would speak directly on behalf of those members. But unlike any union, ArFFA would act solely by negotiation and representation. It would never undertake industrial action such as strikes, go-slow or work-to-rule and never challenge the chain of command. It would also cease activity in units sent on operations. Nor would it become involved in wider political issues, including defence policy, or form any political affiliations either directly with a political party or indirectly through membership of trade union bodies. (On the principles underlying the Federation, see its ‘Letter to the Chief of the Defence Force’ dated 12 October 1984, reprinted in Editorial 1984: 2–4.) The constitution of the Armed Forces Federation of Australia was formally adopted at a meeting of some 200 serving personnel in Canberra on 28 November 1984. Opposition was not slow in coming. Some senior officers believed— no doubt correctly— that the very existence of the Federation implied a lack of confidence in their leadership and ability to look after the interests of those under them. This loss of a role in determining conditions of service, many senior officers believed, would reduce the effectiveness of the chain of command (Lawrence 1986: 119). Some senior officers depicted supporters of the Federation as ‘Bolsheviks’ and raised the spectre of strikes by military personnel. A two-star officer claimed that ArFFA was ‘funded by a foreign embassy whose country’s
Military collectivism in Australia 139 interests were “inimical to those of Australia”’ (ArFFA 1994: 23). The Chief of Air Staff actively discouraged personnel from joining. One prominent retired officer expressed a widespread concern in arguing that ArFFA would promote self-interest at the expense of commitment and encourage political alignment as had occurred with Public Service unions (Greville 1985) Other service chiefs were more moderate, if cautious, in their reaction to an organisation whose creation was, after all, in line with government policy. In 1985, for example, the head of Navy stated that he had no objection to personnel enrolling as members while observing that the Federation should not attempt to displace the chain of command when advocating improvements in conditions of service (Pratt 1987: 330). Though most opposition faded away over time, it is fair to conclude with the President of ArFFA in 1990 that the ‘old guard’ resented and never fully adjusted to the formation of the organisation (Copley 1990: 1). As the same President also ironically observed: ‘Of all the official institutions on the Defence scene, only the Government welcomed this development’ (Copley 1990: 1). The government permitted the Federation to collect subscriptions through salary deductions and made them tax-deductible (as with all union membership dues). Nevertheless, ArFFA was offered no use of government resources such as office accommodation, and limits were placed on the use of Defence premises for meetings which were to be held outside working hours (Hogan 1989: 16). It had to survive on its own resources.
AFTER THE COLD WAR The activities of the Federation have continued along much the same lines from its foundation to the present time. It has concentrated on bread-and-butter issues such as service pay, allowances, bonuses, compensation and superannuation. It also pays close attention to the way in which service personnel can be financially disadvantaged by other federal and state taxes, charges and social security schemes. Its methods are the familiar stock-in-trade of all lobby groups: representations to government ministers and shadow ministers; use of the media through press releases, letters to newspapers and commentary; submissions to parliamentary and other inquiries; and publication of a journal (Viewpoint). It is, of course, difficult to judge how effective all this activity is. But it can at least represent directly and strongly the views of members who would find it difficult to have their voice heard. The Federation’s greatest asset, as one President put it, is the ability ‘to speak out publicly, forcibly and bluntly when necessary’ (Hack 1990: 3). The other target of Federation activity is the Defence Force leadership itself. Despite some initial antagonisms, relations between ArFFA and senior officers have generally been positive, and at worst neutral. The position adopted by General Baker in 1996 was typical. Recognising a shared interest in the welfare and conditions of service of personnel, he expressed a readiness to meet periodically with the Federation and declared that he would not pressure personnel for
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or against membership (which implied there would be no discrimination against members). At the same time, he made clear that he expected the Federation to be well-informed about the Defence Force, to be accurate in any criticisms, and to put forward realistic claims with a responsible negotiating approach (Baker 1996: 33). Service chiefs have recognised the value of ArFFA as one of a number of safety valves to channel discontent, making it more visible and more possible to deal with effectively. In this sense the Federation can be seen as a not wholly unwelcome ‘burr under the saddle’ (Gowans 1986: 27). The impact of ArFFA is shaped by several factors which can be grouped into three broad categories: policies determined by government, including Australia’s external relations; wider social pressures including the existence of other organisations dealing with similar issues, and changes in workplace relations in civilian life; and factors within the ADF itself. Each suggests the role for the Federation will remain limited. Indeed, in late 2004 its Industrial Officer questioned whether the organisation would even continue to exist for another 12 months (Howatt 2004). The shift from paternalism towards a more occupational military, which has only been accelerated by the end of the Cold War, has not produced the growth in support for the Federation that might have been expected. Why is this the case?
Governmental factors Strategic policy In Australia it seems to be lack of military activity that stimulates interest in collectivism. For some years after 1972 the ADF was not engaged in hostilities and none appeared in prospect. Contributions to international peacekeeping were minor and not seen as essential to national security (Smith 2005: 10–11). While there was much debate about strategic policy – should the ADF focus on defence of Australian territory or on contributing to more distant operations alongside allies? – it was a time when attention could be given to personnel matters such as falling retention rates and the creation of new bodies concerned with pay and conditions. The end of the Cold War in fact led to high levels of Australian involvement in both peacekeeping and war. Major commitments were made to peacekeeping in Cambodia (1992–93), Somalia (1993–95) and Rwanda (1994), followed by leading roles in missions in Australia’s own region: Bougainville (1997–2003), East Timor (1999–2005) and the Solomon Islands (2003-to date). Small but high profile military contributions were also made to the war to liberate Kuwait in 1991, the Afghan campaign in 2001 and the invasion of Iraq as well as subsequent stabilization operations in Afghanistan and Iraq. This increased operational tempo provided a focus for the interests and energy of ADF personnel. High ‘personnel tempo’ did not translate into strong interest in collective activity. At the same time the government had its own reasons for taking a greater interest in how members of the Defence Force were to be rewarded.
Military collectivism in Australia 141 Government policy The formation of an association in 1974 (albeit unsuccessful) and again in 1984 was supported by the government of the day. Both cases occurred during the first term of a Labor government that had encouraged some form of collective representation in its election platform. Inherent in the government’s position was the principle that all workers, even those in uniform, should enjoy certain basic rights. This view is found in many social-democratic parties which seek to extend rights to all citizens, including those in uniform (Taylor and Arango 1977: 52). The Australian Labor Party was in this tradition but was also highly pragmatic, making it clear that the sort of union it would support must be strictly limited in its activities. The ALP was also dependent for funding and support on trade unions who were suspicious of a military association, whether because of inherently hostility towards to Defence or because of fears a Defence-based union might encroach on their membership. Military collectivism has not fared much better with the non-Labor side of politics. It was a Liberal government that imposed a wage freeze on the Defence Force in the early 1980s and, if it had retained office, might have resisted the formation of the Federation in 1984. The return to office of a non-Labor government in 1996 coincided with the continuing upsurge in ADF activity. Critics suggested that it was anxious to gain popularity by associating itself closely with the Defence Force (Cheeseman and Smith 2001). Whatever the truth of this assertion, it became clear to the government that it needed to pay attention to service pay and conditions for both regulars and reservists if it was to make a high level of demands on personnel. The need for an active association of personnel thus diminished. The position of the Federation is further weakened by the fact that the present non-Labor government is unwilling to assist it by providing office space free of charge, which it does for the more conservative Regular Defence Force Welfare Association and Defence Families of Australia. The Federation has thus received support in principle from the Labor side of politics and its emergence was certainly assisted by the fact that a Labor government was in office in 1984. But that support has been limited since no organization representing the Defence Force could be a fully-fledged union of the kind that has traditionally supported the Labor Party. The conservative side of politics unwittingly stimulated widespread support for an organization through its wage freeze in the early 1980s and has since then remained wary of an organisation akin to a union while not actively opposing it. Fully embraced by neither the left nor the right, the Federation has – perhaps fortunately – been left to make its own way.
Societal factors Competitors with the Federation The Armed Forces Federation is not the only organisation within Australia to claim a role in looking after the welfare and conditions of service of military
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personnel. The Regular Defence Force Welfare Association was founded in 1959 with the immediate purpose of remedying what was then a highly unsatisfactory military superannuation scheme. With branches across the country it focuses on advocacy on behalf of serving and retired personnel who have claims on the government under legislation relating to superannuation, compensation, veterans’ entitlements and benefits for widows of military personnel. It also makes representations to government on a wide range of matters bearing on welfare and conditions of service and sometimes ‘intervenes’ in the DFRT. However, with about 6,000 members, most of whom are retired, its primary focus tends to be on superannuation and compensation matters. While drawing attention to anomalies and inadequacies in current pay and conditions, it does not see its chief role as directly representing serving members. Another organisation closely associated with conditions of service is Defence Families of Australia (DFA). Formerly known as the National Consultative Group of Service Families, it was founded in 1986 to represent the views of ADF families who at that time felt much discontent across a range of issues bearing on their quality of life. The DFA provides a forum for service families and seeks to influence policies that directly affect families, such as removals, housing, spouse employment and children’s education. To this end it meets regularly with relevant ministers and with service chiefs. There is clearly some overlap with the Federation but the two organisations regularly consult and cooperate on certain issues. The Returned and Services League is the largest organisation in this field with over 200,000 members. Originating in the 1914–18 war, its purpose was to promote the interests of veterans returning from that war and to maintain a sense of comradeship amongst them. Over the years it opened its membership to all ex-service personnel and later to serving members. While taking an interest in current pay and conditions, it remains firmly focused on veterans’ matters. In 2001 the League approached ArFFA with a view to amalgamation but this was decisively rejected. Members of the Federation feared that, being greatly outnumbered, they would lose their independence as well as their representative character. Civilian workplace changes A number of changes in the workplace across the wider community have implications for the role of the Federation. Since 1991 the option of ‘workplace bargaining’ has been available to employees in a given organisation or enterprise who are free to negotiate their own benefits with the employer subject to certain minimum conditions. It has, for example, been applied to civilian employees of the Department of Defence who consequently have a vote on whether or not to accept a proposed agreement. The Federation supports extending this right to service personnel, arguing that it would increase their real and perceived involvement in setting pay and conditions. Service chiefs, however, are concerned that to permit such a vote would undermine their authority and their responsibility to those in uniform. Most worryingly, a difficult impasse might result if personnel voted against a package of pay and conditions negotiated by their senior officers.
Military collectivism in Australia 143 In the early 1990s the Federation sought to enhance its influence through a process known as ‘registration’ under the Industrial Relations Act. This would give it the right to appear before the Defence Force Remuneration Tribunal rather than having to seek leave in each case. In its argument for registration, ArFFA cited Article 22 of the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights which guarantees everyone the ‘right to freedom of association with others, including the right to form and join trade unions for the protection of his interests’ (ArFFA 1995). The Department of Defence and the Labor government opposed the move, fearing that the new status could lead to formal affiliation with the Australian Council of Trade Unions and a degree of politicisation. In 1996 the Industrial Relations Commission found that members of the ADF did not have contractual relationships with an employer and were therefore not ‘employees’. This rejection was a mixed blessing for the Federation. It lost the opportunity for formal status before the DFRT which might have encouraged service personnel to look to ArFFA to bargain over pay and conditions in future. On the other hand, the Federation may have found that success decreased support within the ADF and increased the hostility of governments— precisely because it made the Federation look rather more like a trade union.
Changes in the ADF Organisational change The end of the Cold War ushered in a period of major reorganisation and rationalisation of the armed forces. From about 70,000 full-timers and 28,500 reservists in 1989 the ADF shrank to about 52,000 full-timers and 19,000 reservists in 2005. Many positions were eliminated by outsourcing and civilianising as well as by merging functions previously performed separately by the three services. A central purpose of the reform process was to shift the weight of the ADF from its administrative ‘tail’ towards the ‘teeth’ so that the number of personnel available for operations actually increased. Reservists were also more effectively trained and greater use made of them, including overseas deployment on a voluntary basis. Constant reviews and reorganisations inevitably produced turmoil among personnel and much concern over promotion prospects and career development. But again joining ArFFA was not the preferred response. One factor may have been that many of the uniformed positions lost in the downsizing were administrative or auxiliary in nature. The net effect was to restore or reinforce the centrality of the ‘warrior’ and the combat arms in the ADF. While no hard evidence is available, it can be surmised that support for collectivism tends to be stronger among those in support roles who were precisely those reduced in number. Moreover, individuals always had the option of resignation as the ultimate solution to constant reorganisation, excessive hours of work and extended postings away from families— clearly evidenced by retention difficulties in recent years, particularly among more experienced personnel.
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Alternative mechanisms within the ADF The Armed Forces Federation came into being in part because alternative mechanisms for expressing individual grievances and collective resentment over poor pay and conditions did not exist, or had simply failed. By 1984 the government recognised that new means of dealing with such problems were necessary— hence the creation of the DFRT and the Defence Force Ombudsman. Though not a deliberate aim of the government, the effect was to reduce the role open to the Federation. Since this time, the ADF has expanded other mechanisms to respond to personnel problems, at least on an individual basis. Military chaplains and psychologists have long existed but have been supplemented by civilian counsellors. Telephone hotlines have been set up to listen to complaints and grievances on an anonymous basis, notably in relation to sexual harassment. Even within the chain of command, senior officers such as the Chief of Navy have on occasion invited subordinates with complaints to contact them or their office directly by email. The ADF has also had to respond to external pressures with regard to personnel issues. The Human Rights and Equal Opportunity Commission, for example, can be accessed by military personnel. In the early 1990s debate over the exclusion of homosexuals was ignited by a complaint to the Commission which actively and publicly lobbied government and the ADF to secure a change of policy (Smith 1992). It has also pressed the case for ending compulsory retirement ages in the Defence Force, proposing suitability tests in place of what it considers age discrimination. On occasions, too, the courts have been seen as a recourse by serving personnel to take up perceived injustices relating to matters such as sex discrimination and postings as well as compensation for injuries. In the political arena parliamentary committees of inquiry into personnel issues have grown substantially in number, providing a forum for individuals and organisations such as ArFFA to present their views in writing and orally under the protection of parliamentary privilege. Thanks to the internet, moreover, their concerns and complaints are accessible to any who take an interest. Since 1994 major reports have been tabled in Parliament on sexual harassment in the ADF, officer education, military justice procedures, brutality in The Army’s parachute battalion, and the recruitment and retention of ADF personnel (Smith 2004: 189–90). Parliamentary committees have also closely scrutinised legislation relating to matters such as military compensation and veterans’ entitlements. This kind of interest is important because it engages politicians from both government and opposition and often produces bipartisan support for improvements in personnel conditions. It also encourages those seeking change within the ADF.
Attitudes in the ADF The most important factor shaping the nature and role of military collectivism in Australia is undoubtedly the attitudes found among ADF personnel themselves. While government policy, social factors and institutional change are
Military collectivism in Australia 145 important— and in turn influence attitudes— it is the general lack of enthusiasm for ArFFA within the ADF that is critical. In its early years, the Federation faced some internal tension between those who wanted to maintain the conservative position as originally intended and those who saw more aggressive, activist policies as the way to win members. A militant Federation, however, would certainly have stimulated even more opposition within the Defence Force and in the wider community and may have led to its early demise. Yet the moderate and responsible stance adopted by ArFFA has also failed to attract many members. Membership of the Federation has never been high— perhaps 3,000 plus out of 70,000 regulars at its peak— and is currently in decline. 5 This is also reflected in the declining number of branches many of which now engage in little activity and face difficulties finding office-holders. ArFFA also suffers from the fact that membership tends to appeal only to those who have served for some years and have decided to stay in uniform— rather than those serving short terms who make up a large proportion of the ADF. Nor in all probability does membership of ArFFA enhance career prospects (Gowans 2005). It is little consolation that membership of trade unions in the community is also falling— down to about 26 per cent of the full-time workforce (46 per cent for public sector employees). The fact is that support for the Federation has simply not caught on among those in uniform. The widespread resentment over perceived gross unfairness that helped the Federation take off in 1984 has dissipated— simply because conditions have improved. Small numbers remain strongly supportive or strongly opposed, but the great majority of military personnel appear indifferent. Some believe that the current system is reasonably adequate and that collective activity would do nothing to improve things. Even those dissatisfied with existing arrangements do not naturally turn to the Federation as the obvious alternative. A survey of personnel in 1994 showed 42 per cent believing that senior officers could not effectively represent them in wage cases (with another 29 per cent unsure); yet only 22 per cent believed they should cease to represent them (Barry 1995: 36). Unless future governments allow dissatisfaction of the kind experienced in the early 1980s to recur, support for ArFFA seems likely to remain limited. More generally, there appears to be an underlying sense among ADF personnel that any organisation resembling a trade union has no part in the military— for all the traditional reasons such as the threat to discipline and to the chain of command, and the undermining of unit cohesion and esprit (Taylor and Arango 1977). It may also be the case that the Federation and its officials are seen by some as complainers (‘whingers’ in the Australian vernacular) who are not to be associated with. Certainly strong in the ADF is the desire to avoid any organisation that has or might produce party political overtones (Langley 1974: 14–15). This attitude has only been reinforced by the fact that the Defence Force is increasingly called upon to carry out homeland security tasks such as counterterrorism and border security against vessels carrying unauthorised migrants which have the potential to become highly politically charged. It matters little whether fears about unionism or politicisation are soundly based or not. Constant reassurance from ArFFA has not assuaged them.
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PROSPECTS It is hard to see what might change such attitudes. True, some other professional associations have been successful by being vocal and politically active— for example, the Australian Medical Association which promotes the interests of doctors. But political activism is not a realistic option for ArFFA and few members, if any, actually want to become activists. The appointment in 2002 of a prominent figure in both the ADF and the wider community to be patron of the Federation might have been expected to change attitudes. This was Dr Tom Frame who is the Anglican Bishop to the Australian Defence Force and a well-known commentator and author of numerous books on military affairs.6 But one person is unlikely to turn around negative attitudes within the ADF, given the many other factors at work. As far as government policy is concerned, ArFFA seems to get the worst of both worlds. It is not enough like a normal trade union to be welcomed with open arms by the Labor side of politics, yet it smacks of trade unionism enough to be treated warily by the non-Labor side. In practice, governments of both persuasions have remained cautiously pragmatic. Whatever their views in principle, it has been expedient for both to accept the existence of a small and moderate organisation which helps channel the views of more radical individuals and brings to light anomalies and inequalities in pay and conditions. But ultimately no government wants to risk having a collective organisation that might directly or indirectly challenge the position of the service chiefs and might achieve major pay increases that could undermine the allocated defence budget. Fundamentally, the system of setting pay and conditions has proved adequate, if by no means perfect. The DFRT has produced reasonable results for service personnel while the policy of allowing gains among Department of Defence civilians to flow on to the ADF in most cases has prevented any strong sense of relative deprivation. Nor do growing difficulties in recruiting and attracting people with the rights skills seem to offer opportunities to the Federation. Market forces are likely to ensure that pay and conditions are set at realistic levels. In this context the role of ArFFA seems at best marginal though nonetheless real and valuable— through lobbying government and service chiefs for specific improvements and watching for anomalies and inequities in the existing system. The ADF has moved considerably along the institution-occupation spectrum in terms of individual attitudes and organisational reform. In the area of pay and conditions Defence shifted markedly toward the occupational model when it adopted a Tribunal to determine these matters that operates relatively openly and resembles the system followed in the community for many years. Yet support for collective representation has simply not taken off among individual ADF members. It is a salient case where an organisation has moved towards the occupational model but where individuals have remained much closer to traditional values at least in one respect (Segal 1986: 355–6). Members of the ADF accept much of the occupationalism adopted by their organisation but assert the uniqueness of their profession by staying aloof from anything that looks like a trade union.
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Notes 1 The bulk of respondents (55 per cent) supported a body able to negotiate with the government on pay and conditions while a further 13 per cent supported an organisation prepared to take mild industrial action. Another 27 per cent supported an organisation limited to consulting with and advising the government. Only 2 per cent were opposed to any kind of collective representation while 4 per cent favoured an association prepared to take full industrial action. No inter-service differences were evident (Jans 1988a: 252). 2 In its first year the office dealt with nearly 9,000 oral and written complaints of which 40 per cent were resolved totally or substantially in the complainant’s favour with another 24 per cent partially so (Jordan 1986: 43). The position of DFO was later incorporated into that of the Commonwealth Ombudsman. 3 There is a similar problem in the UK at a lower level (Bartle 2001: 145). 4 One of the co-founders of ArFFA, then Brigadier Gowans, points out that his motive was in fact paternalist: he wanted to assist ordinary service personnel who had to put up with shabby treatment and could not speak for themselves (2005). 5 ArFFA is unwilling to disclose its actual number of members while stating that it is broadly representative in terms of rank with about 25 per cent officers and 12.5 per cent females (both figures are close to proportions in the ADF). Senior NCOs and WOs are strongly represented at 25 per cent of total members with some 50 per cent drawn from privates and corporals. (Communication, 29 November 2004). 6 Bishop Frame is a former naval officer and the son of a union organiser in the steel industry.
References Anderson, David (1997) The Challenge of Military Service: Defence Personnel Conditions in a Changing Social Context, Background Paper No. 6, Information and Research Services, Commonwealth Parliament. Canberra: Department of the Parliamentary Library. Armed Forces Federation of Australia (1994) ‘ArFFA’s origins: how a bold idea was brought into being’, Viewpoint, 10 (3): 19–27. — (1995) Commonwealth Fights Defence Representation, media release, 27 July. Averay, Toni (1994) ‘Unionisation in the Australian Armed Forces – The Emergence of the Armed Forces Federation of Australia’, Australian Defence Force Journal, 107, (July-August): 5–12. Baker, J. S. (1996) ‘Chief of the Defence Force statement on the Armed Forces Federation of Australia’, Viewpoint, 12 (3): 33. Ballantyne, I. J. (1983) ‘Military unionism – its potential for development in the Australian Armed Forces in the 1980s’, Australian Defence Force Journal, 39 (March-April): 3–10. Barry, M. J. (1995) ‘The application of productivity based wage fixing principles to the ADF’, Australian Defence Force Journal, 114 (September-October): 21–41. Bartle, Richard (2001) ‘Independent Representation – The Time is Right’ in A. Alexandrou, R. Bartle and R. Holmes (eds), New People Strategies for the British Armed Forces. London: Frank Cass. Cheeseman, Graeme and Smith, Hugh (2001) ‘Public consultation or political choreography?: The Howard Government’s quest for community views on defence policy’, Australian Journal of International Affairs, 55 (1): 83–100. Commonwealth Parliament (1988) Personnel Wastage in the Australian Defence Force. Report of the Joint Committee on Foreign Affairs, Defence and Trade, Canberra: Australian Government Publishing Service.
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Copley, Bob (1990) ‘President’s remarks’, Viewpoint, 6 (1): 1. Cortright, David and Watts, Max (1991) Left Face: Soldier Unions and Resistance Movements in Modern Armies. New York: Greenwood Press. Coulthard-Clark, Chris (1981) ‘The military as strikebreakers’, Pacific Defence Reporter, 7 (11): 72–4. Downes, Cathy (1988) High Personnel Turnover: The Australian Defence Force is not a Limited Liability Company, Canberra: Strategic and Defence Studies Centre. Editorial (1984) ‘A trade union in the armed forces?’, Journal of the Royal United Services Institute of Australia, 7 (2): 1–4. Frame, Tom and Baker, Kevin (2000) Mutiny! Naval Insurrections in Australia and New Zealand. Sydney: Allen & Unwin. Gowans, P. T. F. (1986) ‘The Armed Forces Federation of Australia; A major change in direction in defence industrial relations’, Journal of the Royal United Services Institute of Australia, 8 (2): 23–9. — (2005) Reflections on the origins of the Armed Forces Federation of Australia, tape recording, 21 March. Grazebrook, A. W. (1983) ‘The defence forces need a voice’, Pacific Defence Reporter, 10: 46–7. Greville, P. J. (1985) ‘How unionism could destroy the services’, Adelaide Advertiser (26 July). Hack, Ward (1990) ‘Message from the President’, Viewpoint, 6 (3): 3–4. Harries-Jenkins, Gwyn (1977) ‘Trade unions in armed forces’, in William J. Taylor, Roger J. Arango and Robert S. Lockwood (eds), Military Unions: US Trends and Issues. Beverly Hills: Sage. Hogan, G. P. (1989) ‘Collectivism in the Australian Defence Force: Military anathema or natural progression?’, Australian Defence Force Journal, 77 (July-August): 11–18. Howatt, Graham (2004) Industrial Officer, Armed Forces Federation of Australia, Interview, 29 November. Jans, Nicholas A. (1988) ‘Australia’, in Charles C. Moskos and Frank R. Wood (eds), The Military: More Than Just a Job?. Washington: Pergamon-Brassey’s. — (1988a) Careers in Conflict: Report of a Study on Service Officers’ Careers and Families in Peace Time. Canberra: Canberra College of Advanced Education. Jauncey, J. R. (1983) ‘The evolution of Australian military industrial relations’, Australian Defence Force Journal, 40 (May-June): 35–49. Jordan, J. C. (1986) ‘The Defence Force Ombudsman: Genesis, expectations and realisations’, Journal of the Royal United Services Institute of Australia, 8 (2): 43–50. Langley, M. G. (1974) ‘Industrial relations and the Australian Army’, Army Journal, 302 (July): 3–16. Lawrence, R. K. (1986) ‘A study of the Armed Forces Federation of Australia and its impact on the Australian Armed Forces’, Journal of the Royal United Services Institute of Australia, 8 (2): 31–7. Pratt, Graham J. (1986) ‘Institution, occupation and collectivism amongst Australian army officers’, Journal of Political and Military Sociology, 14: 291–302. — (1987) ‘The Development of Military Industrial Relations in Australia’, Journal of Industrial Relations, 29: 321–34. Segal, David R. (1986) ‘Measuring the institutional/occupational change thesis’, Armed Forces & Society, 12 (3): 351–75.
Military collectivism in Australia 149 Smith, Hugh (1992) Homosexuality and the Australian Defence Force: Individual Rights versus Organizational Realities, Working Paper No. 5. Canberra: Australian Defence Studies Centre. — (2004) ‘The military profession in Australia: crossroads and cross-purposes?’ in Evans, Michael, Parkin, Russell and Ryan, Alan (eds). Sydney: Allen and Unwin. — (2005) ‘Australia’, in David S. Sorenson and Pia Christina Wood, The Politics of Peacekeeping in the Post-Cold War Era. London: Frank Cass. Taylor, William J. and Arango, Roger J. (1977) ‘Military effectiveness: The basic issues of military unionization’, in William J. Taylor, Roger J. Arango and Robert S. Lockwood (eds) Military Unions: US Trends and Issues. Beverly Hills: Sage.
Part III
Countries unionised for some time
10 Military unionism in Belgium Philippe Manigart, Delphine Resteigne and Reinhald Sabbe
INTRODUCTION As a result of technological and sociocultural changes, the military organisations of Western advanced industrial societies have become more ‘civilianised’ (Janowitz 1971). In other words, they have gradually lost the structural characteristics that distinguished them from other (civilian) complex organisations and, as a result, have become better integrated into their respective societies. One dimension of this civilianisation process is the unionisation of military personnel (Caforio 2003; Harries-Jenkins 1977; Moskos 1997; Segal and Kramer 1977; Taylor et al. 1977). However, the form that interest articulation and representation of military personnel takes in a particular country is also influenced by the broader societal environment. In Belgium, industrial relations in general are still largely institutionally structured on a neo-corporatist basis (Van den Brande 1987), i.e. in a manner that restricts competition and openness among organised interests (and chief among them, unions) in order to promote a high degree of cooperation.1 As a consequence, unions play a very important role in the social-economic sector in general, and in the public sector particularly. Compared to other European Union countries, industrial relations and social partnership in Belgium are characterised by three features: a high unionisation rate (around 76 per cent in 2000),2 the fact that the three main union confederations3 are divided on mainly political and religious grounds4 and that the main divisions between the various union centres are based on sectors of activity (e.g. metallurgy, construction, public sector) and status (blue and white collars) (European Commission 2004). It is also important to note that, unlike the political parties that, since the 1960s–1970s, have been divided along language lines (Dutch, French and German) all Belgian unions – both in the private and public sectors – are still nationally organised. Another specific aspect is that, in Belgium, military personnel have been, for a relatively long time, equivalent to federal civil servants. For example, the officer category corresponds to the ‘level one’ of the public service (i.e. the civil servants with a university degree or higher). In principle, the salary scales are more or less the same as those of civil servants of the same rank. At the enlisted level, work hours (legal work week) are similar to those of the civil service (37 hours/week).
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Overtime (a notion alien to the ‘institutional’ military) is compensated for with, either special bonuses or, more frequently, supplementary leave. This chapter first analyses the long unionisation process of the Belgian military, its causes and its various phases – with a special emphasis on the way collective bargaining within the Belgian Defence Department has evolved since the end of the Cold War and the emergence of the new Crisis Response Operations. It then describes the unions representing the military and civilian personnel of the Department; how they represent and defend the rights of the personnel and how many persons belong to these organisations. Finally, it discusses the collective bargaining structures that have been put in place to deal with grievances and matters of mutual concern within the Department.
HISTORICAL CONTEXT In 1975, the military disciplinary code was profoundly reformed in Belgium. One of the numerous changes introduced in the new ‘Law Concerning the Regulation of Discipline in the Armed Forces’ was the recognition of trade unions (article 16). This was, in fact, the outcome of a long process that had begun at the beginning of the twentieth century. One can subdivide this process into three parts: the drive towards some form of group representation (1920–1975); the unionisation of the military (1975–1999); and the post-Cold War era, characterised by the fundamental restructuring of the Belgian defence establishment that began in 2000.
Origins of military unionism in Belgium5 Before 1934, NCOs in the Belgian armed forces did not have any particular rights; they were put in the same category as enlisted personnel (most of them draftees). In the 1920s, in order to defend their rights, the NCOs set up, with the authorisation of the Minister of War, a charitable association, the ‘Association of Belgian NCOs’. Until 1961, NCOs remained the only category of military personnel to be organised in military professional associations. At the beginning of the 1960s, the prestige of the Belgian armed forces was very low. This gave rise to a feeling of relative deprivation, especially among officers (Werner 1976: 480). As a result, in 1961, a few, mostly senior, officers set up a professional association, the ‘Association of Active Duty Officers’. The goals of this association were to inform public opinion about the problems of national defence (a traditional objective for a military professional association) but also the defence of the material interests of the officers (a more ‘unionist’ activity). Soon after, the enlisted personnel followed suit and created their own association, the ‘Association des Soldats and Caporaux de Carrière de Belgique’. In 1964, the government created a ‘Consultative Commission of Army, Air Force, and Naval Personnel’. The Commission was composed of six members appointed by the Defence Minister and 36 members of the different professional associations. It was a decisive move towards military unionism.
Military unionism in Belgium 155 In 1972, in its declaration of investiture, the government made known its intention to recognise unionism in the military. Interestingly enough, the initiative came from the socialist party and not from the military associations. The latter were indeed not very enthusiastic: their voice could already be heard and they had a monopoly over the representation of the interests of military personnel. For them the proposal of the government was essentially a way to break that monopoly by introducing civilian unions into the military. Nevertheless, in 1972, they organised themselves into three military unions, one per category of personnel. The three organisations later joined together into the ‘Centrale Génréale des Syndicats Militaires’.
Recognition of unions On 14 January 1975, unionism in the armed forces was legally recognised. However, the 1975 law put a restriction on the legitimate means of collective bargaining: ‘to come out on strike, whatever may be its form, constitutes a breach of discipline which must be punished with a punition disciplinaire’ (art. 30 in Werner 1976: 485).6 On 18 August, 1978, ‘the Law Organising the Relations Between the Public Authorities and the Trade Unions of Army, Air Force, Naval and Interservice Medical Personnel’ was promulgated. It provides in its article 2 that other than in cases of urgency or in other cases determined by the King: The competent authorities cannot without preliminary negotiations with representatives of the unions in a Joint Committee set up to that end lay down: •
Draft bills and inferior regulations having reference to: – Administrative ordinances concerning the rules governing periods of service and behaviour – Financial ordinances – Rules of pension – Relations with unions – The organisation of social services – Normal hours of work – The legal rules for determining cadres of personnel.
Matters which have reference to the state and use of forces are excluded from the preliminary negotiations referred to above. This law is practically identical to the law of 19 December 1974 organising the relations between the public authorities and the trade unions of civil servants employed by these authorities. The main difference between the 1978 and 1974 laws is the fact that the 1978 law is restricted to peacetime (art. 1). A separate Act, promulgated in 1994,7 stipulates that in time of operational deployments, assistance missions, intensive duty and periods of war, the exercise of the abovementioned prerogatives is suspended by right unless the unit commander decides otherwise. It should be added that operational matters remain off limits to the
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collective bargaining process. Examples of issues thought to be directly related to the operational readiness of the armed forces are: rules concerning the organisation and structure of the armed forces; unit training schedules; staffing and dayto-day working of the units; appointment and transfer of personnel; battle and training dress as well as individual and collective equipment.
The strategic plan8 After the Cold War ended, the Belgian military began a radical restructuring process. In the first phase, the Belgian government decided, in 1992, to suspend the draft and to adopt an AVF format while reducing manpower strength by 50 per cent and freezing the budget until the end of 1997. The plan foresaw, furthermore, the return to Belgium of Belgian armed forces stationed in Germany. Originally, the transition phase was to be completed by 1 January 1998. It soon became clear, however, that this target date would not be met. From the start the government had promised not to lay off anyone; measures were to be found to release excess personnel in a socially acceptable way. The hope was that, through a series of accompanying measures, by 1 January 1998, the Belgian armed forces would reach its 42,500 maximum authorised strength level. However, the release measures, which had been introduced at the beginning of the restructuring phase, did not produce the expected results. Therefore, in 2000, convinced that the 1992 restructuring of the Belgian armed forces had not gone far enough, AndréFlahaut, the Defence Minister, unveiled his so-called Strategic Modernisation Plan 2000–2015 (Flahaut 2000), in which he proposed a sweeping reorganisation of the Belgian armed forces intended, through a smaller but better equipped and more efficient force, to enhance Belgium’s ability to project forces capable of operating across the full spectrum of military operations in concert with NATO and EU allies. In fact, it moved the Belgian military toward a truly post-modern military organisation. A key aspect of this plan was the adoption of a joint structure, for operational units as well as for support and staff activities, which would lead to a removal of horizontal boundaries and a better integration of civilian personnel into the structures of the armed forces (Flahaut 2003: 59). Consequently, military and civilian personnel who previously had worked in two separate structures are now integrated into one structure and have to work together more closely than before. As a result, the statutes of military and civilian personnel are slowly combining together. As far as collective bargaining within the Department of Defence is concerned, the logic would therefore also call for one common trade union statute for both the military and the civilian personnel. For the moment, though, given the strong opposition on the part of the civilian unions of the Defence Department, such an idea seems very unlikely to happen in the near future. They absolutely refuse to renounce their union statute which gives them more rights than the military unions. Under the guidance of the socialist Defence Minister, and within the framework of the Strategic Plan, a very pro-active ‘social dialogue’ has been instituted
Military unionism in Belgium 157 between the authorities and the unions representing personnel. In other words, unions within the department are better accepted than before by the military authorities and they have received more rights and capabilities. For instance, unions must now be consulted and agreements negotiated on matters concerning the well-being of the personnel at the level of the department; formal consultation and collective bargaining procedures (which, formerly, were restricted to the Ministerial and Joint Staff levels) will soon be put into place first at the departmental level (replacing the former Consultative Commission by a Negotiation Committee) and afterwards at the local (unit) level. On 19 April 2001, a first ‘sector agreement’ – similar to the ones signed in the other public departments between the public authorities and the unions – was signed by the Defence Minister and the unions’ delegates. It defined the priorities in matters of human resource policy within the department and covered such issues as recruitment and selection, training, the disciplinary, administrative and pecuniary statutes of the personnel and the end of careers. Among the many measures agreed upon by the parties, one can cite the introduction of new physical tests in order to improve equal opportunities between men and women in the armed forces; a gradual reform of the salary scales of military personnel to make them more like the ones in the public sector; the negotiation of improved parental leave, child care facilities and overtime compensation; an assessment study of the establishment of a special insurance, financed by the department, for professional risks (such as sickness, injury or death) of military personnel on operations abroad; a reform of the disciplinary regulations to make them similar to the ones in the public sector. With the increasing number of constabulary operations all over the world,9 Belgian military and (more recently) civilian personnel are now being routinely sent abroad on four-months rotation.10 This has raised a whole set of new issues in terms of quality of work and family life, but also, on a more concrete level, of insurance coverage, compensation, and psychological support. The second ‘sector agreement’, signed on 16 July 2004 by the Defence Minister and the representative military and civilian personnel unions, addressed most of these issues. For instance, concerning the overseas missions, the agreement foresees that, before departure, the rules of engagement and the statutory regulations will be clearly communicated to the personnel concerned; that, to the extent possible, reasonable advanced warning will be given to the participants so that they can prepare themselves and their family; that everybody who is being sent on operations will be offered the possibility of psychological support for themselves or their family; and that, in concert with the Minister of Pensions, the feasibility of taking into account these periods of operations overseas in their pension will be analysed. The parties also agreed in the protocol to revise the law for personnel on operations abroad so as to have a new, more coherent compensation system that takes into account three dimensions of these missions, i.e. risk, stress and distance (the riskier, more stressful and difficult the mission and the farther away the country, the higher the compensation).
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UNIONS REPRESENTING THE PERSONNEL OF THE DEPARTMENT OF DEFENCE
Representative and non-representative unions When speaking of interest representation within the Belgian Defence Department, a distinction has to be made between the trade union regulations for civilian personnel of the Department of Defence (which follow the public sector legislation) and those for the trade unions for military personnel. The Belgian social legislation distinguishes between two kinds of recognised unions: the so-called ‘representative’ and ‘non-representative’ unions. Representative unions have more prerogatives than the non-representative unions, the most important being that they can take part in the formal collective bargaining process, i.e. to participate at the negotiation committee, the high consultation committee and the local consultation committees (see below). There are four representative military unions and two non-representative unions. The centres of the three inter-professional (or ‘political’) civilian unions (i.e. the unions representing all categories of salaried workers in Belgium) defending the rights of civil servants have been automatically declared ‘representative’ of military personnel. These are the socialist General Confederation of Public Services (CGSP/ACOD), the Christian Confederation of Public Services (CCSP/CCOD) and the Liberal Free Union of the Civil Services (SLFP/VSOA). Initially, only one purely military union (the one that had the most members and represented at least 10 per cent of the personnel) was recognised as ‘representative’. This ‘corporatist’ representative military union is the General Confederation for Military Personnel (CGPM/ACMP). Two non-representative, smaller military unions are, for the moment, merely ‘recognised’ by the Minister of Defence: Action and Freedom (A&L/A&V) and the National Union for the Military Personnel (SNM/NSM). In the future, though, more than one ‘corporatist’ union could be called ‘representative’. To become representative, non-inter-professional unions (i.e. unions representing only military personnel) will simply have to prove they represent at least 5 per cent of the personnel.11 The civilian personnel of the Department of Defence is also represented by the three trade unions defending the rights of all civil servants, i.e. the socialist CGSP/ACOD, the Christian-democratic CCSP/CCOD and the liberal SLFP/ VSOA. Although the unions of the civilian personnel of Defence are the same as the representative ‘inter-professional’ trade unions of the military personnel, their structures and delegates were, until now, different (with the exception of the SLFP/VSOA which has a mixed structure and represents civilian and military personnel alike).
Unionisation rate In a 1998 representative survey of Belgian military personnel (Van den Bulck and Eggermont 1998) 33 per cent of the respondents said that they were members
Military unionism in Belgium 159 of a military or a civilian union. The unionisation rate, however, varied quite considerably with rank. Whilst 41 per cent of privates were unionised, the percentage dropped to 37 per cent among NCOs and to only 12 per cent among officers. Among civilian personnel of the Defence Department, it was 38 per cent. This is similar to the trend in the private sector where one finds a higher unionisation rate among blue-collar workers (95 per cent in 2000) than among whitecollar workers (43.5 per cent) (Arcq and Aussems 2002: 18–19). Compared to the other public departments, where it stands at 59 per cent (Arcq and Aussems 2002: 20) however, the unionisation rate in the Department of Defence is smaller. This can probably be explained by three factors: 1 2 3
unions in the military are quite recent (only 30 years for military unions); at least, at the beginning, there was some opposition to and fears about unions in the military; and the legislation is different, as it is also the case for other workers in the public sector, such as policemen and magistrates.
Interest representation In order to be able to defend and represent the interests of the military personnel ‘recognised’ unions have three sorts of delegates. They can propose a maximum of six so-called ‘responsible leaders’ for the approval of the Minister. These ‘responsible leaders’ can at the same time be permanent or local delegates. Permanent or standing delegates are paid, active-duty servicemen or women who are put at the disposal of the unions on a permanent basis in order to exercise the unions’ prerogatives. For the moment, there are four delegates per representative union. Local delegates are persons who have been approved by the Minister to exercise their local union prerogatives. In order to exercise these rights the unions can make use of ‘union leaves’, i.e. paid days (450 days per union for the moment; 700 days in the near future) and of ‘exemptions of duty’ (eight hours per quarter per unit for each union). In order to let them express freely their opinions and defend the rights of their members and of the personnel, military disciplinary rules are not applicable to the activities of union delegates. They benefit also, as do their counterparts in the public and private sectors, from special protection against arbitrary transfers to other units and layoffs.
COLLECTIVE BARGAINING WITHIN THE DEPARTMENT OF DEFENCE12
Negotiation and consultation As in the private sector and the rest of the public sector, collective bargaining within the Department of Defence takes two forms: negotiation and consultation.
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For military personnel, negotiation takes place at the ministerial level and is mandatory for all bills, drafts of royal and ministerial decrees concerning the recruitment, rights, obligations, and the promotion of servicemen and women, as well as the regulation of relations with trade unions. A negotiation results in a protocol of agreement, called ‘sector agreement’ (‘accord sectoriel’); it is a political commitment that is not legally binding. If no agreement is reached, it is called a ‘protocol of disagreement’ and the Minister takes the ultimate decision. In practice, the Minister strives towards obtaining at least the agreement from one of the representative unions. Consultation is held in the ‘high consultation committee’ under the chairmanship of the Chief of Defence (or his mandated representative). All drafts of regulations concerning the same issues as those treated during negotiations must be discussed beforehand. Consultation results in unanimous or divided advice, which is taken into account by the authorities when they take their final decisions (but they are not bound by it). Finally, a ‘dispute committee’ formulates advice to the Minister in case of differences between the authorities and the unions concerning the implementation of the union statute. For civilian personnel, the rules that apply are those of the civil service. Matters concerning civil servants of all departments are placed under the chairmanship of the Prime Minister and discussed in the so-called ‘Committee A’. This is the highest committee level. For matters specific to the various departments, there exist 19 subordinate negotiation committees, one per department. ‘Sector Committee XIV’ is the negotiation committee for civilian personnel of the Department of Defence. The chairman of Sector Committee XIV is the Minister of Defence. Just as for military personnel, there is a negotiation and a consultation level. Local consultation is conducted in 16 ‘basic consultation committees’.
Well-being at work Under the influence of the European legislation and the pressures of the unions, an ‘Act for the well-being of the personnel at work’ covering all workers of the public and private sectors has been adopted in Belgium.13 This Act obliges the employer to take measures to prevent occupational risks. ‘Well-being’ covers such matters as safety at work, ergonomics, health, psychological stress and harassment at work. The Act stipulates that the employer must establish an internal service and a consultative committee for the protection of personnel at work. In the private sector, ‘Committees for prevention and protection at work’ have been set up with representatives of the workers elected every four years. In the public sector, including the armed forces, it was decided not to create new bodies but instead to give these prerogatives to the existing consultative committees. For military personnel, the consultation structures for the well-being of the personnel have yet to be defined and implemented but the goal is to have a parallel and coherent structure for civilian and military personnel, with two levels of formal consultation. At the highest level, the existing military high consultation
Military unionism in Belgium 161 committee will be entitled to deal with well-being issues. At the unit level, 23 local military consultation committees will be set up. Besides these formal consultation structures involving the representative unions, a third level of informal consultation system exists at the local level, the ‘Local Information, Management and Well-Being Committees’. They provide informal consultation opportunities between the local authorities and local elected representatives of all personnel categories.
CONCLUSION Compared to their counterparts in the private and public sectors, unions in the Belgian armed forces have far less bargaining power and influence. The most obvious reason is naturally the stricter legal restrictions placed on union negotiations in the military than in most other sectors (no right to strike and the exclusion of some matters from the collective bargaining process). But, it should be added that even if military personnel had the right to strike (or even if they would ever decide to go on strike) their ability to put pressure on the authorities would still be very limited. On the one hand, because the new missions of the post-modern armed forces are most often in far away countries and do not immediately threaten the national interests of Belgium, going on strike would not disrupt essential services or be very visible to the public. On the other hand, defence issues in Belgium have never been high on the political agenda and matters of great public interest.14 These two facts, more than the legal restrictions, place the military unions at a structural disadvantage relative to the unions representing the other uniformed, armed profession dealing with internal security, i.e. the police. These unions are organised more or less along the same lines as the military unions, i.e. a mixture of inter-professional and corporatist unions, but have the right to strike. A few years ago, following the Dutroux scandal,15 it was decided to radically restructure the various police services, and the police unions were able to gain substantial pay increases and other benefits from the federal government. This was because they could capitalise on the sense of urgency and priority this reform had in the eyes of the public and because of their capacity to create nuisances for the citizens. Such a sense of urgency and priority does not exist in the case of defence policy. Notwithstanding, even if unionism in the Belgian military is more recent, less developed and less influential than in the civilian sector and if the unionisation rate among military personnel is lower than in most other sectors, it has become a fact of life for the military authorities. Paternalistic labour relations, typical of an institutional military, have made way for collective ones. As in the civilian sector, these labour relations are structured along neo-corporatist lines, with only a few unions allowed to represent and defend the rights of the personnel. Such a neocorporatist intermediation model, however, does not exclude a certain amount of pluralism, based on political, religious and status criteria (military/civilian,
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military only/inter-professional). Such a system of interest aggregation and representation shows that the Belgian military tends to be largely ‘civilianised’ or ‘occupationalised’ and is very well integrated into its host society. The limited pluralism enables unions to better represent the different interests of military and civilian personnel and also to provide ‘checks and balances’ against the military authorities. As for the style of labour relations within the Department of Defence, one could say that the ‘representative’ unions try to profile themselves as partners of the authorities and attempt to erase the old image of ‘conflict’ unions. That is also why unions prefer to use mediation and dialogue before falling back on measures like ‘action days’ which is the only form of authorised protest, given the fact that going on strike is still forbidden for military personnel.
Notes 1 According to Schmitter (1979: 13), ‘Corporatism can be defined as a system of interest representation in which the constituent units are organised into a limited number of singular compulsory, noncompetitive, hierarchically ordered and functionally differentiated categories recognised or licensed (if not created) by the state and granted a deliberate representational monopoly within their respective categories in exchange for observing certain controls on their selection of leaders and articulation of demands and supports.’ 2 Source: Arcq and Aussems (2002: 17). 3 These are, by decreasing number of members, the Social-Christian CSC/ACV (Confédération des Syndicats Chrétiens/Algemeen Christelijk Vakverbond), the Socialist FGTB/ABVV (Fédération Générale du Travail de Belgique/Algemeen Belgisch Vakverbond) and the Liberal CGSLB/ACLVB (Centrale Générale des Syndicats Libéraux de Belgique/Algemene Centrale der Liberale Vakbonden van België). 4 This union pluralism does not prevent the two biggest unions (FGTB/ABVV and CSC/ACV) from often forming a ‘common union front’. 5 For more details on this period, see Manigart (1984). 6 Military personnel may demonstrate, but not during working hours and only outside the barracks and in civilian clothes (Art. 16 of the 1975 Law concerning the regulation of discipline in the armed forces). 7 Arrêté royal du 25 avril 1996 portant exécution de la loi du 11 juillet 1978 organisant les relations entre les autorités publiques et les syndicats du personnel militaire des forces terrestre, aérienne et navale et du service médical. 8 For more details on the restructuring plan of the Belgian military, see Manigart (2003). 9 In the last years, Belgian troops have been deployed in Bosnia, as part of UNPROFOR, IFOR and SFOR (since 1994), in Kosovo as part of KFOR (since April 1999), in the Former Yugoslav Republic of Macedonia (in 2001–2002), in Afghanistan as part of ISAF (since January 2002), in the Democratic Republic of Congo as part of the MONUC and in operation Avenir. 10 According to a survey conducted in 1998 among a representative sample of Army personnel, 47 per cent of the interviewees had already participated in at least one longterm (4 months) peacekeeping mission abroad. See Wauters (1999). 11 Every four years an independent counting commission of magistrates organises a counting (Art 11 de la loi du 11 juillet 1978 organisant les relations entre les autorités
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13 14 15
publiques et les syndicats du personnel militaire des forces terrestre, aérienne et navale et du service médical). The next counting will take place in 2006. Sources: Règlement du 1er juin 2004 concernant les relations entre les autorités militaires et les syndicats du personnel militaire (Brussels: Ministry of Defence, DGHR/HRP-RSP) and Coopmans, J, ‘Social Dialogue within the DoD’ (internal memo, Ministry of Defence, Directorate General Human Resources, HRP/RSP, October 2004). Loi du 04 août 1996 concernant le bien-être des travailleurs lors de l’exécution de leur travail. On the public image of the Belgian military and its evolution, see Dumoulin et al. (2003). This scandal erupted in 1996 in Belgium following the kidnapping and murder of four young girls. It revealed serious dysfunctions in the police and justice system.
References Arcq, E. and Aussems, M. (2002) ‘Implantation syndicale et taux de syndicalisation (1992–2002)’ Courrier hebdomadaire du CRISP, No. 1781. Caforio, G. (2003) ‘Unionization of the Military: Representation of the Interests of Military Personnel’, in: Caforio, G. (ed.) Handbook of the Sociology of the Military. New York: Kluwer Academic/Plenum Publishers. Dumoulin, A., Manigart, P. and Struys, W. (2003) La Belgique et la politique européenne de sécurité et de défense. Une approche politique, sociologique et économique. Brussels: dÉitions Bruylant. European Commission (2004) Industrial Relations in Europe 2004. Luxemburg: Office for Official Publications of the European Communities. Flahaut, A. (2000) Le plan stratégique pour la modernisation de l’Armée belge 2000–2015. des propositions concrètes pour entrer dans le XXIème siècle, Brussels: Ministry of Defence. — (2003) Plan stratégique +. Evaluation & perspectives. Brussels: MoD. Harries-Jenkins, G. (1977) ‘Trade Unionism in Armed Forces’, in: Taylor, W., Arango, R. and Lockwood, R. (eds) Military Unions: U.S. Trends and Issues. London: Sage. Janowitz, M. (1971) The Professional Soldier: A Social and Political Portrait (with a new prologue). Glencoe: Free Press. Manigart, P. (1984) ‘Le syndicalisme militaire en Belgique’, in: Courrier hebdomadaire du CRISP, No. 1031. — (2003) ‘The Professionalization of the Belgian Armed Forces’, in: Malesic, M. (ed.) Conscription vs. All-Volunteer Forces in Europe. Baden-Baden: Nomos Verlagsgesellschaft. Moskos, C. C. (1977) ‘From institution to occupation: Trends in military organization’, Armed Forces and Society, 4, 1: 41–50. Schmitter, P. C. (1979) ‘Still the century of corporatism?’, in: Schmitter P. C. and Lehmbruch, G. (eds) Trends Toward Corporatist Intermediation. London: Academic Press. Segal, D. and Kramer, R. C. (1977) ‘Worker democracy in military organizations’, in: Taylor, W., Arango, R. and Lockwood, R. (eds) (1977) Military Unions: U.S. Trends and Issues. London: Sage. Taylor, W., Arango, R. and Lockwood, R. (eds) (1977) Military Unions: U.S. Trends and Issues. London: Sage.
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Van den Brande, A. (1987) ‘Neo-corporatism and functional-integral power in Belgium’, in: Scholten I. (ed.) Political Stability and Neo-Corporatism: Corporatist Integration and Societal Cleavages in Western Europe. London: Sage. Van den Bulck, J. and Eggermont, S. (1998) De identiteit van de Belgische Krijgsmacht anno ‘98, Technical report. Leuven: CEPO, Katolieke Universiteit Leuven. Wauters, N. (1999) La satisfaction au travail des militaires belges. Brussels: General Staff, Manpower Directorate, technical report. Werner, V. (1976) ‘Syndicalism in the Belgian Armed Forces’, in: Armed Forces and Society, 2, 4: 477–94.
11 Unions and the German armed forces The citizen in uniform Jean Callaghan*
INTRODUCTION During the Cold War years following the second World War, the main mission of the German armed forces, the Bundeswehr, was to repel – along with its allies in the North Atlantic Treaty Organisation (NATO) – any Warsaw Pact attack on German territory. More specifically, the German Constitution, also known as the Grundgesetz or Basic Law, stated that the Bundeswehr’s mission was limited to warding off an attack on Germany or one of her NATO allies. Use of the Bundeswehr for any purpose other than national defence required an explicit constitutional authorisation (Klein and Kuhlmann 2001: 194). During the Cold War, the German Bundeswehr was also authorised – in case of tension or war – to protect civilian installations within Germany and perform traffic control operations. They were also permitted at any time to assist in natural disasters or in serious accidents, where the Bundeswehr’s aid was needed to effectively manage the emergency (Klein and Kuhlmann 2001). With the end of the Cold War, a reunited Germany found itself at the centre of major changes related to European security policy as well as questions about its future international status. At this time, the Bundeswehr consisted of approximately 500,000 soldiers and officers and was equipped for defence against a cataclysmic clash with the Warsaw Pact’s combined armies. Because of what some have called the weight of German history, there was great concern in Europe about the role that Germany and its military would play in the continent’s future. Security and defence issues, particularly Germany’s role in NATO, were of special concern, particularly to the Russian Federation. After the signing of ‘The London Declaration’ in July 1990, however, negotiations – also known as the ‘Two Plus Four’ talks – ensued between the United States, the United Kingdom, France, and the Soviet Union, with the goal of ending the post-Second World War occupation of Germany. These negotiations culminated in the ‘Treaty on the Final Settlement With Respect to Germany’, which was signed in Moscow on 12 September 1990. In addition to terminating quadripartite rights and responsibilities and returning to the Germans full sovereignty over their internal and external affairs, the treaty called for the complete withdrawal of Soviet forces from German soil by the end of 1994; declared that the current borders were final and
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definitive; and accepted the reunited Germany’s right to belong to NATO. The Germans, in turn, renounced nuclear, biological, and chemical weapons and stated their intention to reduce the manning of the German armed forces to 370,000 within three to four years after the Conventional Armed Forces in Europe (CFE) Treaty came into force.1 On 3 October 1991, formal political reunification took place and on 2 December 1990, nationwide elections were held for the first time since 1933. Reunited Germany saw the mission of the Bundeswehr as being to change from one of defence of the homeland to that of a broader understanding of Germany’s defence, which came to include out-of-(NATO)-area operations (for the first time since the end of the Second World War) crisis management operations and conflict prevention missions. For instance, shortly after reunification, the German government committed troops to several international missions, including monitoring and enforcing the ban on flights over Bosnia-Herzegovina in 1993 and monitoring the embargo on the former Yugoslavia in the Adriatic during the same year. At the time, there was considerable debate about the constitutionality of the Bundeswehr’s participation in out-of-area operations and United Nations peacekeeping missions. In 1994, however, the Federal Constitutional Court ruled that such deployments were indeed legal.
RESTRUCTURING THE GERMAN ARMED FORCES With these new missions came new requirements for Germany’s armed forces, which also necessitated manpower cuts and radical restructuring. The new German National Security Concept of 15 March 1995 called for a reduction in troop numbers, initially down to 370,000 soldiers and officers, and later further cuts, bringing the number down to 330,000. The structure of the Bundeswehr also changed, with the armed forces divided into the main defence forces, crisis reaction forces, and the basic military organisation. The practice of conscription, long a controversial issue in post-Cold War Germany, was not significantly changed by the new concept. This called for about 200,000 career and ‘temporary career’ soldiers and officers alongside 130,000 conscripts and required rapid reductions in personnel strength and extensive reorganisation of the forces. Unfortunately for those serving in the Bundeswehr, there was little time to adjust to these dramatic changes in mission and structure before new reform initiatives were launched. German reunification brought enormous costs, forcing belt tightening across the entire country. At the same time, the international environment changed dramatically; instead of ushering in a new era of peace, the world began to seem to be a more dangerous place, resulting in significant alterations in threat perception as well as new missions for armed forces all across Europe. Both of these factors led to a recognition that sweeping changes in force structure, equipment, training, and manpower strength and assignments were necessary. The new financial constraints stemming from the modernisation and integration of the former German
Unions and the German armed forces 167 Democratic Republic, as well as the changes in the political environment and military requirements, ultimately meant that Germany had to readdress the issues it thought had been settled with the 1995 National Security Concept. Policymakers came to believe, for instance, that the 1995 Concept kept too many soldiers and officers in the service while inadequately equipping the troops for effective crisis response operations. The sort of materiel the Bundeswehr required for Cold War operations was designed for repelling an enormous, heavily armed, and armoured, Warsaw Pact attack from the East. This equipment was not suited for the new missions, which meant that the Bundeswehr was not able to bring appropriate forces to bear in crisis intervention and peacekeeping operations. While hardware costs were rising, due to the Bundeswehr’s requirements to purchase the correct armaments and transport for these new missions, defence budget cuts were announced. If the Bundeswehr was to be able to afford the new equipment it needed for its new missions, the money had to come from somewhere else in the defence budget. Personnel numbers were quickly recognised as being one of the most expensive budget line items: however, cutting personnel raised the risk that Germany would not be able to contribute forces to any new international tasks. By the mid-1990s, the Bundeswehr was already over-extended on the manpower front, with an extremely high operational tempo. The crisis reaction forces, for instance, which at that time had 60,000 soldiers and officers, were manned at too low a level, which required longer deployments (an increase from four to six months) and frequent – some said too frequent – deployments abroad for troops in these units. In order to come up with solutions to these problems, the German government commissioned a study, led by the former Federal President, Richard von Weizsäcker. It was tasked with determining the way ahead, within the country’s budgetary constraints, by recommending appropriate manning and equipping proposals for the medium to long term. A similar commission was launched, at about the same time, by Rudolf Scharping, the Minister of Defence, to establish guidelines for Bundeswehr reform (Federal Republic of Germany 2000a,b). Both the von Weizsäcker commission’s results and the Defence Minister’s plans were completed in 2000, and led to renewed reform initiatives by the government. The reform of 2000 called for cuts in peacetime manpower levels, from 324,000 soldiers and officers down to 225,000, with the potential to surge – with the drafting of reservists – to 500,000 if a mobilisation were to be required. Out of this number, 150,000 troops were designated for assignment to response forces, with 80,000 of these to be available for missions on short notice; the remainder were be available as replacement troops in units at varying levels of advanced readiness. This change would allow the Bundeswehr to provide personnel to either NATO or the EU in accordance with commitments like the Petersberg Tasks. An additional 22,000 billets were added to include service members who were either in vocational training programmes at the end of their term of service or servicewomen who were on maternity leave. The number of draftees was reduced from 130,000 to 77,000 and obligatory conscript service
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was reduced. Additionally, the number of civilian employees in the defence administration sector was to be reduced from 140,000 to 80,000. Another feature of the 2000 reforms is that greater emphasis was placed on outsourcing in order to allow the Bundeswehr to focus on its military functions. Clothing and base services as well as vehicle fleet management were outsourced; contracting out of military mess facilities was also mandated. The first steps toward implementing these reforms were taken in 2001, with the understanding that the reform should be completed by 2006 (Klein 2005: 147–51). In the intervening years, however, the economic situation continued to feature tight budgets. This forced the reduction and even cancellation of planned acquisitions and the announcement of base closures. In 2003, Defence Minister Peter Struck introduced the new Defence Policy Guidelines; this document included the following reiteration of the new changes in German defence policy since the end of the Cold War: Germany’s security policy is characterised by changed risks and new opportunities. At present, there is no conventional threat to German territory. The Bundeswehr’s spectrum of operations has changed fundamentally. The security situation calls for a security and defence policy that is geared to the prevention and containment of crises and conflicts; such a policy must comprise the entire spectrum of instruments and options for action relevant to security policy and must be based on common action with allies and security partners. The Bundeswehr focuses on operations in the context of conflict prevention and crisis management as well as in support of allies, also beyond NATO territory. (Federal Republic of Germany 2003: paragraphs 9, 10) According to these guidelines, conscription would be maintained2 and a capacity to contribute to the prevention of terrorist attacks within the framework of German law was also to be developed (Federal Republic of Germany 2003: paragraph 62). Of course, for those serving in the armed forces during this time, stress, change, and turmoil were the watchwords. Transition from the Cold War Bundeswehr into the leaner and more mobile Bundeswehr of the 1990s did not come without a certain degree of suffering and hardship. Luckily for those serving in the German armed forces, German troops were represented by an interest group – the Bundeswehr-Verband – whose sole raison d’être was to serve as their advocate.
THE CITIZEN IN UNIFORM In order to understand the reasons for the establishment of the BundeswehrVerband, it is important to look back almost 50 years at the circumstances surrounding the establishment of the Bundeswehr itself. In the first decade after the Second World War, the Federal Republic of Germany had no armed forces. After
Unions and the German armed forces 169 the German Parliament approved the establishment of armed forces, however, they faced the challenge of fitting them into the country’s new democratic structures. More importantly, the German policymakers also needed to convince the general population that a German military force would not, once again, endanger peace and German society itself (Prüfert 2003: 353). The solution was for Germany to embrace the concepts of ‘Staatsbürger in Uniform’ (citizen in uniform) and Innere Führung. When parliamentary discussions began about the establishment of the Bundeswehr, the German people and many influential groups – including labour unions, churches, youth organisations, and the Social Democratic party – had to be convinced that the new German armed forces would avoid the pitfalls and dangers of Germany’s past. The first concept, translated as ‘citizen in uniform’, is the most fundamental component of the overarching concept of Innere Führung. The concept of Innere Führung (which is difficult to translate concisely into English; perhaps the best approximation is internalised leadership and democratic participation) and the related idea of ‘citizen in uniform’ were designed to help convince the sceptical German public that it was possible to guarantee democratic control of the new German armed forces and avoid the possibility of developing a German military ‘state within a state’. One of the most prominent advocates of this concept was General Wolf von Baudissin, who was supported in his efforts by political reformers and their parliamentary allies. The essence of his arguments for Innere Führung and ‘citizen in uniform’ was that, particularly in a post-Second World War democratic Germany, German soldiers had to retain the rights and duties of all other German citizens, even while serving in the armed forces, if they were to fully understand and support the young German democracy. The democratic rights of soldiers were to be limited only when absolutely necessary for the proper functioning of the military. Of course, there were some limitations to certain civil rights of German soldiers. Indeed, the Constitution expressly authorises the legislature to restrict soldiers’ rights – as long as they are in uniform and on duty – in, for instance, the realms of freedom of assembly, the right to petition in joint actions, freedom of movement, and the basic right ‘to freely express and spread one’s own opinion in word, writing and image’. The Legal Status of Military Personnel Act also puts limits on soldiers’ freedom of speech, but these limitations are generally related to prohibitions against publicly promoting any political party or its agenda while on duty or in uniform, prohibitions against revealing official secrets, and the general rule that they shouldn’t talk publicly about official matters. In their capacity as German citizens in a democracy, however – that is, when off duty and out of uniform – soldiers and officers may freely express their opinions, even about military and defence matters, although they should never give the impression that their personal opinions are official statements. This general freedom of speech and freedom to take part in the political life of the state – to have all the rights and responsibilities as other German citizens, with only a few, very clearly defined limitations – is grounded in German military law and is the guiding principle of the ‘citizen in uniform’. (It’s worth noting here that this is not the
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case in the US or British armed forces, for instance, where political activity is very strictly limited.) In their double role as civil citizens and citizens in uniform, German soldiers and officers are expected to be knowledgeable about and even participate in political discussions – which are officially organised within military units – about military matters, security, and peace. Innere Führung and its related idea of citizenship requires those in the German armed forces to critically examine military and security issues, form their own opinions about them, and if they are so inclined, to take a stand as an individual (not a soldier) in support of their convictions. The early proponents of Innere Führung and ‘citizen in uniform’ argued that this practice not only encourages soldiers to stay abreast of current issues, but also reminds them of their democratic responsibilities as members of an informed populace. On-duty discussions of current events and their meaning within the context of German democracy have the potential to bring valuable expertise and experience to the table, thus contributing to popular discourse and the further development of the democratic community. Of course, the basis of this reform lies in General von Baudissin’s belief that the German military had to be freed from the enormous weight of its history and the dangerous mentality of the past through the democratisation of the armed forces. He and his supporters argued that military should perceive itself as an integral part of society, as full participants in an open and pluralistic community, enjoying all the rights and sharing all the responsibilities of other German citizens. The basic idea was simply to encourage soldiers to exercise their constitutionally guaranteed democratic rights and responsibilities when serving in the German armed forces (Kuhlmann & Callaghan 2004). Under the umbrella concept of Innere Führung, German soldiers also have legal protections based upon the guiding principle of primacy of politics over military matters. Which means that in the daily life of German service members, commanders and others in leadership positions in the German armed forces are able to issues orders, which – as long as they are legal – subordinates must obey. Unfortunately, in every military unit there will always be the risk that someone will misuse his authority. Therefore, as part of the German democracy’s system of checks and balances, every German soldier and officer has the right to file complaints against his superiors if wronged and is entitled to a written response to his complaint (Prüfert 2003: 355). Grievance procedures are closely related to the democratic principles of participation and co-determination. Like all German citizens, service members are expected to exercise their civic responsibilities; for instance, voters and interest groups act to protect their interests and present their ideas to the larger public to increase general understanding and support for these interests. In Germany’s democracy, adherence to this principle is considered normal for those serving in the armed forces, as well, as long as the military’s mission is not compromised. German soldiers exercise their rights to participation and co-determination in a variety of ways, both directly and indirectly. For instance, soldiers of any rank have strong legal channels through which they may protect their rights, whether
Unions and the German armed forces 171 by appealing to independent civil courts, to the (constitutionally mandated) Wehrbeauftragter (the Parliamentary Commissioner for the Armed Forces, similar to an ombudsman), to the Defence Committee, or to their seniors in their chain of command (Kuhlmann & Callaghan 2004). They may also seek redress or mediation through their Personalvetretungen (works councils, to which servicemen may belong if one is founded by civil servants in the same unit) and Vertrauensmänner (honest brokers) who are elected in military units, with representation for three major groups: privates, corporals and non-commissioned officers, and officers.
THE BUNDESWEHR-VERBAND The national level means of representation for service members, however, is the Bundeswehr-Verband, which was established in 1956. The Bundeswehr-Verband was established as a ‘vocational association’, one that – for the first time in German military history – represented soldiers’ interests (Giesen 1978, 15–16). The Bundeswehr-Verband claims to be independent of all political parties and is financially, materially and politically independent of its employer. Its members include conscripts, enlisted soldiers with limited contracts, and career soldiers of all branches and ranks (including reservists, veterans and surviving family members) making it one of the most effective soldiers’ pressure groups around the world. It is difficult to overstate the political influence of the Bundeswehr-Verband; its advisory and oversight roles with regard to decisions about military and security matters are enormous. As the Bundeswehr-Verband is one of the leading representational associations in Germany, the government is legally obliged to give the association a formal opportunity to present its views in hearings whenever it is considering legislation affecting the Bundeswehr. Furthermore, the Bundeswehr-Verband’s principles and interests have an unofficial but palpable influence even in the day-to-day work of the armed forces. Consider, for instance, these situations: in a dispute, a Bundeswehr-Verband member on active duty may simultaneously play the role of dedicated and obedient soldier while serving in the role of a negotiator (via the Bundeswehr-Verband) or a veteran (and Bundeswehr-Verband member) may simultaneously serve as a bureaucrat writing regulations or a member of parliament drafting legislation related to defence matters. Although the Bundeswehr-Verband has always emphasised its character as a ‘vocational association’ (in contrast to a real union) both sorts of organisations utilise in essence similar tools. As with many unions, Bundeswehr-Verband members may approach the organisation with requests for specialised assistance; the experts at the Bundeswehr-Verband are often as well (if not better) informed as the specialists in the government. The Bundeswehr-Verband can provide members with access to legal assistance, as well. In 1999, for example, the Bundeswehr-Verband invited its membership, military commanding officers, and politicians to attend a protest rally in uniform in Berlin in order to complain about
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lack of planning stability in military affairs (Süddeutsche Zeitung 1999). About 5,200 soldiers of all ranks participated. A similar event took place in Berlin in November 2001, when 25,000 soldiers and police personnel protested against an intended future cut in their pensions (Gertz 2001). Although both incidents were explicitly not called strikes, they had a similar impact in the public eye (Kuhlmann and Callaghan 2004) and served as effective tools to raise awareness about these issues with the German populace. Today’s Bundeswehr-Verband has approximately a quarter of a million members of all ranks and status groups, including veterans and family members as well as surviving dependants of former service members. The German Parliament, the Bundestag, and the federal government regularly consult with the BundeswehrVerband on laws and regulations that could affect the interests of service members and veterans, as well as their dependants. This relationship is generally positive, collaborative, and productive, marked by early consultations on potentially controversial issues that are more effectively negotiated with a bilateral spirit of compromise and goodwill, avoiding angry clashes farther down the road. The Bundeswehr-Verband has recently had a number of victories. The association is particularly proud of its recent success in advocating improved benefits for soldiers who are injured or killed on deployment. Under this new act, injured soldiers receive better disability benefits than ever before; survivors’ benefits for the family members of soldiers killed on deployment were also dramatically improved. It has also worked to eliminate the so-called ‘professional ban’ on women serving in the armed forces. Until 2000, women were only permitted to serve in either the medical or military music branches of the Bundeswehr. This changed in 2000, when the Bundeswehr-Verband supported the case of Tanja Kreil from Hannover, who had trained in electronics and wished to pursue a career in the Bundeswehr. After she was rejected for recruitment in the weapons electronics maintenance section of the armed forces, Ms Kreil took legal action to seek redress for discrimination on the basis of gender. The BundeswehrVerband supported her in bringing her case before the European Court of Justice, which ruled in January 2000 that the Bundeswehr’s restrictions on women serving in the armed forces were contrary to the principle of equal treatment of men and women. Within a year of this ruling, the Bundeswehr began implementing a new policy allowing women access to all career fields in the armed forces. Colonel Bernhard Gertz, as the federal chairman of the Bundeswehr-Verband, appears frequently in the German media, always ready to speak out on behalf of the interests of his members. From discussions of potential deployments of German troops abroad (HAS 2004; Ddp 2004) and the types of tasks assigned to German units on deployments (Ddp 2005) to discussions of defence budget cuts (FWM 2004) and the controversy over whether or not Germany should maintain conscription (N-TV Berlin 2004 and Beste 2000) Colonel Gertz and other Bundeswehr-Verband officials regularly seek opportunities to promote the best interests of the German soldiers and raise awareness about their problems with the German public and parliamentarians. Recently, the Bundeswehr-Verband
Unions and the German armed forces 173 claimed victory in its fight to reduce the amount of time German soldiers must spend on foreign deployments from six to four months. The association has long argued that the incidence of post-traumatic stress disorder increases while unit effectiveness declines after the initial four months of a deployment. The Bundeswehr-Verband has also been outspoken in raising awareness about problems related to depleted uranium and other possible carcinogens to which German soldiers may be exposed (Hanley 2001, www.Tagesschau. de 2002).
CONCLUSIONS It is clear the Bundeswehr-Verband is a successful and powerful lobbying group within Germany and one that has successfully achieved many important protections and benefits for its membership. The principles upon which the Bundeswehr-Verband was established, however, remain alive in the German armed forces today. It is not only within Germany, that these principles have improved the lot of soldiers while guaranteeing their democratic rights. It can also be argued that the Bundeswehr-Verband is a European norms leader in the field of democratisation of armed forces. There is substantial evidence to support the argument that the German concept of ‘citizen in uniform’ – as well as related themes like Innere Führung, primacy of politics over military matters, freedom of association, legal representation of soldiers, and co-determination – were also used with great success in other European states (both East and West) to help establish European military representative organisations, to lobby governments for the necessary legal and sometimes even constitutional changes necessary to institutionalise these organisations in the armed forces, and to positively influence legislation affecting the daily living, working, and safety conditions for soldiers all across Europe. EUROMIL, the pan-European organisation of military associations, represents the interests of military personnel in 34 member associations from 22 countries – nearly 500,000 individuals (EUROMIL 2005). Germany’s Bundeswehr-Verband remains the group’s largest and most wealthy member. In interviews conducted by this author with representatives from military associations in Ireland, Bulgaria, Hungary and Russia, it was clear that the interview subjects felt greatly indebted to EUROMIL in general but also to the Bundeswehr-Verband for its example and cogent arguments for the necessity of representative associations in mature democracies. The influence of the German arguments can be seen whenever one reads documents from EUROMIL. For instance, all member associations from EUROMIL, as a condition of membership, are formally committed to the principle of the ‘citizen in uniform’; the arguments related to Innere Führung are also plain to see. Many EUROMIL publications and their website prominently feature statements like this one:
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Jean Callaghan In a democracy, the serviceman has, in principle, the same rights and obligations as any other citizen. A serviceman, who must defend the rights and freedoms of his fellow citizens outside his own national territory, must be entitled to enjoy and make use of these same rights and freedoms while he is in service to his country. This principle often requires action by states: specifically, the removal of all restrictions on civil and social rights, which do not interfere with the successful performance of military assignments and the constitution of the state in question. Associations made up of servicemen and therefore of responsible citizens in uniform form the basis for fair and active participation in the political life of their countries. (EUROMIL 2005)
One of the central challenges for EUROMIL and member associations like the Bundeswehr-Verband is to mentor new representative associations, particularly in the post-communist countries. In many states, there is a grass-roots recognition that these associations play an indispensable role in improving the lot of soldiers and their families. The effectiveness of the German armed forces and their representational association should serve to convince governments across Europe that all servicemen can share the same right to representation and freedom of association shared by all other citizens in European democracies without risking deterioration in military order and discipline.
Notes * The opinions expressed in this chapter are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect those of the German, US, or any other government or governmental institution. The author would like to express her gratitude to Dr Jürgen Kuhlmann for his friendship as well as the expertise and insights he shared with me in writing this chapter and over the past decade. Any errors in analysis or fact are of course solely mine. 1 The Conventional Armed Forces in Europe (CFE) Treaty was signed in Paris on 19 November 1990. 2 The issue of conscription is a very controversial one in modern Germany; many believe that with the end to any conventional threat to Germany, the only reason the government retains the practice is to continue to benefit from the low cost, compulsory labour of the young men who refuse to serve in the armed forces and thus – through their alternative civilian service – provide the federal government’s social system with a low-cost work force that is used in kindergarten and day care, home visits to the elderly, and orderly work in hospitals. For discussion of this debate, please see: Blumenwitz, D. (1982) ‘Wehrpflicht und Kriegsdienstverweigerung im Verfassungssystem der Bundesrepublik Deutschland’, (Compulsory Military Service and Objection to Serving Under Arms in the Constitutional System of FRG) in: Barth, P. (ed.) Die Bundeswehr in Staat und Gesellschaft (The Bundeswehr in State and Society) Munich; Rose, J. (1997) ‘Die prekär gewordene Legitimität der Wehrpflicht – Anmerkungen zu einer unerwünschten Debatte’ (The Precarious Legitimisation of the Draft – Comments on an Unwelcome Debate) Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung, p. 11, 2 October 1997; Kohr, H.-U. (1993) ‘Rechts zur Bundeswehr, links zum Zivildienst? Orientierungsmuster von Heranwachsenden in den alten und neuen Bundesländern Ende 1992’, (Rightists to the Bundeswehr, Leftists to Zivildienst? Structural Orientations of Adolescents in the Old and New Länder 1992). German Armed Forces Institute for Social Research (SOWI)
Unions and the German armed forces 175 Arbeitspapier (working paper) No. 77, Mü nchen; and Beste, R. and Priessler, J. ‘Friedensforscher fordern Ende der Wehrpflicht’, Berliner Zeitung, 7 June 2000, p. 1. See also the website, (Do away with conscription!)
References Beste, R. and Priessler, J. (2000) ‘Friedensforscher fordern Ende der Wehrpflicht’ (Peace researchers advocate an end to conscription) Berliner Zeitung, 7 June 2000, p. 1. Blumenwitz, D. (1982) ‘Wehrpflicht und Kriegsdienstverweigerung im Verfassungssystem der Bundesrepublik Deutschland’, (Compulsory Military Service and Objection to Serving Under Arms in the Constitutional System of FRG) in: Barth, P. (ed.) Die Bundeswehr in Staat und Gesellschaft (The Bundeswehr in State and Society) Munich. Ddp (2004) ‘German Bundeswehr Association Head “Categorically”Against Iraq Mission: Bundeswehr Association: Iraq Mission Would be “Suicide Mission”’, (translated by Foreign Broadcast Information Service, EUP20041014000029) Berlin, 14 October 2004. — (2005) ‘Germany May Transfer Troops From Kabul to Drug-Growing Areas in Afghanistan: Additional Bundeswehr Forces Obviously To Konduz and Fayzabad’, (translated by the Foreign Broadcast Information Service, EUP20050120000059) Berlin, 20 January 2005. EUROMIL (2004) ‘Germany Reduces Duration of Foreign Deployments’. Available HTTP: (Accessed 21 March 2004). — (2005) ‘Our Mission: Representing human rights, fundamental freedoms and professional interests of military personnel in Europe.’ Available HTTP: (Accessed May 2004). Federal Republic of Germany (2000a) ‘Bundeswehrreform im Kabinett beschlossen’ (Cabinet agrees to Bundeswehr reform). Available HTTP: (Accessed 15 June 2000). — (2000b) Der Bericht der ‘Kommission Gemeinsame Sicherheit und Zukunft der Bundeswehr’ von der Weizsäcker-Kommission (A Fundamental Renewal: Common Security and The Future of the Bundeswehr: Report of the von Weizsäcker Commission to The Federal Government (Zeitschrift für Innere Führung). Available HTTP: (Accessed Berlin, 23 May 2000). — (2003) Verteidigungspolitische Richtlinien 2003 (Defence Policy Guidelines). Available HTTP: (Accessed 21 May 2003). FWM (2004) ‘German Bundeswehr Association Calls Proposed Defense Cuts Intolerable: Bundeswehr Puts Faith in Chancellor Schroeder’, Welt am Sonntag (Internet Version translated by the Foreign Broadcast Information Service, EUP20040516000043) Hamburg, 16 May 2004. Gertz, B. (2001) ‘Rede des DBwV-Bundesvorsitzenden Oberst Bernhard Gertz zum Auß erordentlichen Verbandstag am 26. November 2001 auf dem Gendarmenmarkt in Berlin’. Available at HTTP: (Accessed 26 November 2001). Giesen, H. (1978) Der Deutsche Bundeswehr-Verband, Ämter und Organisationen der Bundesrepublik Deutschland, Duesseldorf: Droste Verlag. Hanley, D. (2001) ‘Plague of the Balkans: Depleted Uranium Shouldn’t Be Investigated as the Only Cause of Sickness among Soldiers’, The Ottawa Citizen, 21 January 2001.
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HAS, (2004) ‘German Bundeswehr Association Opposes Potential Mission in Sudan: Bundeswehr Association Warns Struck Against Sudan Mission’, Der Tagesspiegel am Sonntag (Internet Version-translated by the Foreign Broadcast Information Service, EUP20041010000027) Berlin, 10 October 2004. Klein, P. (2005) ‘The Reform of the Bundeswehr,’ in: Kernic, F., Klein, P. and Haltiner, K. (eds) The European Armed Forces in Transition, Frankfurt am Main, Berlin, Bern, Bruxelles, New York, Oxford, Wien: Peter Lang Verlag. Klein, P. and Kuhlmann, J. (2001) ‘Coping with the Peace Dividend: Germany and its Armed Forces in Transition’, in Kuhlmann, J. and Callaghan, J. (eds) Military and Society in 21st st Century Europe: A Comparative Analysis, Piscataway, NJ: Transaction Publishers. Kohr, H.-U. (1993) ‘Rechts zur Bundeswehr, links zum Zivildienst? Orientierungsmuster von Heranwachsenden in den alten und neuen Bundesländern Ende 1992’, (Rightists to the Bundeswehr, Leftists to Zivildienst? Structural Orientations of Adolescents in the Old and New Länder). German Armed Forces Institute for Social Research (SOWI) Arbeitspapier (working paper) No. 77, München. Kuhlmann, J. and Callaghan, J. (2004) ‘About the Primacy of Politics over Military Matters: (West) Germany’s Approach to Integrating the Bundeswehr into its Democracy,’ in: Born, Hans, Haltiner, Karl, Malešic, Marjan (eds) The Renaissance of Democratic Control of Armed Forces in Contemporary Societies, Baden-Baden: Nomos. N-TV Berlin, ‘Germany’s Greens Plan To Replace Conscription With Voluntary Military Service: ‘Out of Touch With Reality’ – Shorter Service To Replace Conscription’, (Internet Version-translated by Foreign Broadcast Information Service, EUP20041108 000338) 08 November 2004. Prü fert, A. (2003) ‘The Military and Democracy,’ in: Callaghan, J. and Kernic, F. (eds) Armed Forces and International Security: Global Trends and Issues, Muenster: LIT Verlag. Rose, J. (1997) ‘Die prekär gewordene Legitimität der Wehrpflicht – Anmerkungen zu einer unerwü nschten Debatte’ (The Precarious Legitimisation of the Draft – Comments on an Unwelcome Debate) Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung, 2 October 1997, p. 11. Süddeutsche Zeitung (1999) ‘Der Protest findet im Saale statt: Bei der Bundeswehr wächst der Zorn büer die Sparpläne der Regierung’ (The Protest Takes Place Inside: The Bundeswehr’s Wrath at Government’s Planned Budget Cuts is Rising) 13 September 1999. www.Tagesschau.de (2002) ‘Interview mit Oberst Bernhard Gertz, Bundesvorsitzender des Bundeswehrverbandes’. Available at HTTP: (Accessed 15 November 2002).
12 Military unions in the Netherlands Pluralism, participation and pacification René Moelker
INTRODUCTION
A pluralist culture Dutch culture in general is not very militaristic and the armed forces have always been relatively open to influences from wider society. Representation and employee influence channelled through consultative structures fit the cultural pattern to a high degree. The historical roots of this culture are long and so is the history of soldiers’ representation. The Netherlands armed forces were at the peak of their power in the seventeenth century when the Netherlands Navy gained maritime supremacy and the land forces could withstand the Spaniards and the French. Partly because of the divergence between the civilian political culture and the military culture, the glory days of the Dutch Republic did not last long. The most important power elite was the merchant class and thus the armed forces served mainly to protect merchant interests. Merchant values became more dominant than military traditions. Centralism was weak during the period of the Republic (seventeenth to eighteenth century). Governance in the Republic is often characterised as particularism or pluralism (Moelker 2004). In this political system power is shared by many stakeholders, meaning that they will have to negotiate to reach consensus based policy decisions. The pluralist culture is reflected in, and perhaps it is responsible for, one of the most profound cultural traits of the Dutch; they try to reach consensus by consultation, meetings, negotiation, talking, talking, talking. As an economic system from the 1980s to present day, this culture has become famous by the names ‘Polder-model’ or ‘Rhineland-model’. Pluralism is also reflected in workers’ representation, in labour unions and in regulations concerning consultation and participative structures. The roots of labour unions in the armed forces in the Netherlands go back for over 100 years in history. Unions were not easily accepted, though. At first they did not dare call themselves ‘unions’ but instead they cloaked themselves euphemistically as ‘associations for furthering soldiers’ interests’. But they were established and to some degree they were accepted; at times they experienced repression and eventually became cornerstones of consultative structures. Unions became cornerstones of
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these consultative structures in the 1960s and 1970s but the semantic change from ‘associations’ to ‘unions’ is a more recent development that originated from the 1990s. A strategy of rapprochement between military and civilian unions preceded the semantic change in the 1980s. After the geo-political changes in the security structure following the fall of the Berlin Wall and the organisational reforms that resulted from these political changes, the associations professionalised and presented themselves as unions. Change and growing acceptance was evolutionary and depended on the way in which several stakeholders interacted with each other. In this chapter the interactions are fitted in a dynamic three-party model in which representatives of the ‘common’ military (soldiers, NCOs, up to middle ranking officers) military management (generals and high ranking officers) and the government (especially the Ministry of Defence) play their part. The chapter begins with a section on developments in the civilian labour relations followed by the genesis of civilian unions. In the third section four different periods in the development of military unions are distinguished. The fifth section not only delves into the way consultative structures are organised but also discusses the limits set to union activism in the military. In the sixth section conclusions are drawn.
CIVILIAN UNIONS Civilian labour unions were established relatively late in the Netherlands. This is not really a surprise as industrialisation started much later than in Great Britain or the United States of America (Jonge 1976). Industrialisation took off in the second half of the nineteenth century. Society changed from an agricultural society to an industrial society in a few decades. Cities like Amsterdam and Rotterdam experienced their most rapid growth in this period, but alas only simple low quality mass housing was provided. Redundant agricultural workers joined the Rotterdam and Amsterdam workforce to work on a day-to-day basis in, for instance, the harbours or in the industrial sector. Living conditions were so poor that the historian Brugmans (1971) remarked that the cows in the meadows were better housed than the workers in Amsterdam. Several uprisings like the ‘paling-oproer’ (eel uprising, 1886) or the ‘aardappeloproer’ (potato uprising, 1917) caused the police and the armed forces to intervene. The Railway Strike of 1903 remains a well-known fact from social history of that era. Working conditions were, likewise, bad; child labour was common practice (Giele 1979). The poor conditions led to a first parliamentary enquiry and to legislation; Van Houtens’ act against child labour (1874).1 Over time working-class families became subjected to state intervention, care institutions and welfare workers (Regt 1985). In these conditions unions were established. First established was the Typographers Union (1866). Other ‘guild-like’ organisations, such as diamond workers (polishers, cutters) tailors and carpenters followed. Not only could they continue guild traditions, but they were also educated and knew how to organise
Military unions in the Netherlands 179 themselves – and there was the financial aspect. Towns distributed unemployment benefits through the unions.2 The first national union was the Nederlandsch Werkliedenverbond (1871). Shortly after it was established the Protestant and Catholic workers also established unions (Patrimonium in 1877 and R. K. Volksbond in 1888). ‘The heterogeneity of the religious and ideological segmentation of society rendered it unlikely that the trade union movement would become a simple class-based one’ (Hollinshead and Leat 1995: 94). Many more unions experienced their rise and fall, some unions came forth out of earlier established unions, but in this chapter only the most prominent federations of unions in the present will be discussed.3 A socialist union (NVV), established in 1906, merged with a Catholic union (NKV) in 1982 and became the federal organisation Federatie Nederlandse Vakbeweging (Federation of Trade Unions (FNV)). It is the largest federation at this moment. Eighteen unions are associated with the FNV. The Christelijk Nationaal Vakverbond (Christian Union Federation (CNV)) established in 1909, did not merge because it wanted to preserve its Christian identity and is still in existence. It is now the second largest federation with around 11 associated unions. The third organisation that is active in the field is the Middelbaar en Hoger Personeel (Federation of White Collar Organisations (MHP)) for the higher educated and paid employees. Two of the military unions are associated with the FNV, one is in the federation of the CNV and one is in the MHP (see Table 12.2). Dutch unions are much troubled by the ‘free rider’ phenomenon in which workers profit from the bargaining process while not being union members themselves. The membership density has been in decline for a long time. Membership was 40 per cent in 1963, but in 2003 the number of workers who are members of a union dropped below 25 per cent. In 2003 around 1,200,000 workers were members of the FNV and about 350,000 belonged to the CNV. The MHP had slightly less than 170,000 members.4 In contrast to the general situation, some employment groups are characterised by high levels of union membership. In the construction branch (bouw-bonden) 40 per cent of the workers are organised while 60 per cent of railway workers belong to the union. Police unions and armed forces top the bill with membership rates above 70 per cent (Schriemer 2003). Because of the overall decline in union membership, politicians and management are beginning to question whether the unions are still representative of the working population. But unions are a reality simply because they are there at the negotiation table and even though membership rates are low, the unions have tremendous organising power and the capacity to call for strikes or work-to-rule actions in which non-members often participate as well (Velden 2000, 2004).5 If the unions were to be excluded from consultative processes the government could not balance the interests of workers and management and might, therefore, use countervailing forces to reach its objectives. Business enterprises would lack legitimacy regarding collective labour agreements and employment conditions (e.g. agreements on primary employment conditions such as wages, duration of the working day and secondary employment conditions such as facilities for study or travel expenses).
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Unions became ‘social partners’ in a three-party consultation structure that started shortly after World War Two. So despite low membership, the unions are one of the three cornerstones of these structures. Already during World War Two, organisations of employers and workers discussed ways of organising consultative structures. This resulted in the establishment of the Labour Foundation (Stichting van de Arbeid) in 1945, only 12 days after the end of the war. The foundation was and still is a platform for consultation between employers and workers. It formulates recommendations that help the negotiators who discuss Collective Labour Treaties (Collectieve Arbeidsovereenkomsten). Another consultative structure that came into being in 1950 is the Social Economic Council (Sociaal Economische Raad). It is different from the Labour Foundation in that, as well as having representatives from employers and workers, independent members (so-called crown members) also form part of the Social Economic Council. The council has an advisory task on behalf of the government. It forms branches according to products and to specific branches of industry or trade. In these branches employers and workers can regulate the things that are important to the functioning of these branches. These are the outlines of what later has become known as ‘polder-model’ or ‘rhineland-model’.
MILITARY UNIONS IN FOUR PERIODS Military unions are not allowed in every country. Unions for military personnel have existed for some time in Denmark, Sweden, Norway, Finland, Germany, Switzerland, Austria, Belgium and the Netherlands (Caforio 2003), and, more recently, they have been introduced in Spain and Ireland (Van den Bosch 2003; Schouten 2003). Unionisation is prohibited in Britain, the United States, Canada, France, Portugal, Turkey and Greece. Caforio (2003) summarises a number of authors who have put forward hypotheses explaining the national differences in attitudes toward unionisation. One explanation points to the continental political culture in which serving in the army is seen as an integral part of citizenship and where the collective interests are negotiated by unions. Alternatively, in the United Kingdom the armed forces have a: special relationship with the civil power whereby the rights and privileges of the dominant social group are automatically guaranteed to members of the military; in this relationship there is no need to seek unionisation to provide the political, social and economic rights of members of the organisation for these will be always protected by the power elite with which the military is closely associated. (Harries-Jenkins 1977: 68) Other explanations accounting for national differences in attitudes examine differences in conscription; the hypothesis that unionised armed forces are not efficient in combat; and the changes in authority structure, in which the armed
Military unions in the Netherlands 181 forces are becoming more occupational and increasingly conform to enterprises in the civil society. Figurational studies take a different approach by analysing the tensions between at least three parties: government, military management (i.e. higher ranking officers, the military establishment) and members of the military (soldiers, non-commissioned officers (NCOs), and subaltern officers). Such studies investigate the societal developments that change the power balances between these parties. Regarding military unions, Elias’s (1939) concept of the ‘royal mechanism’ seems applicable. The government is in a position to keep the balance by favouring one of the other two parties. In a changing world, a shift can be seen from a traditional alliance between government and military management to a new coalition that is more often favourable to the members of the military. Four periods in the history of military unions can be identified. In the period up to 1920 unions were established for the first time and fought very hard for acceptance. Most of the unions considered themselves in harmony with the government and the armed forces. The second period, from 1933 to World War Two is characterised by a period of antagonism, segmentation and fragmentation along lines of rank and religion. Even though consultative bodies were established in 1920–1922, this period was marked by repression from the government side. Repression gave way only shortly after World War Two to consultation on a corporatist base. The fourth period starts in 1966, which saw the birth of a conscript union that ‘revolutionised’ military unionism. In 1996 the last conscript left the armed forces due to restructuring that resulted from the end of the Cold War. Conscription was suspended, the conscript unions disbanded themselves and the armed forces were structured as All Volunteer Forces. Military unions now have short-term and long-term professional soldiers as members.
Military unions in the early twentieth century – Unitarism In 1897, an association for sailors was founded. Associations for NCOs were established in 1898 (Heckers 1998: 44). There was an association for naval officers as early as 1886, but unlike the NCOs and sailors, this association was not modelled on civilian unions. In 1909, three army officers founded an association for officers. Most of these organisations were associations, not real unions. Officer associations and religiously inspired associations refrained from political statements and opposed any association with political parties and/or civilian unions in the Netherlands (Van Dijk 2002). They were, officially, content to promote war sciences, religion, and the well-being of their members. (In those early years, the National Christian Officers Association, for example, asked the military management whether meals could be preceded by a prayer.) NCO organisations promoted the interests of their members in the early decades of the twentieth century by starting housing corporations and savings and insurance institutions (Heckers 1998). The unions’ housing associations started to build accommodation for their members because military families usually lived inside the barracks and the housing was of poor quality. Some of the insurance institutions that originated
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from union initiative are still in existence (under new names and independent of their former founders) and draw many clients from the armed forces because they are willing to insure soldiers during peacekeeping operations. Whenever they engaged in semi-political work the unions were suppressed and their chairpersons were imprisoned. Sailors who dared to write about abuses in the navy risked ten days in jail with only bread and water every other day (Swarte 1990: 227). The associations of the military made some progress regarding war widows’ pensions (a struggle which continued for over twenty years), the rights of NCOs to marry which were relaxed in 1919 (previously NCOs had to have permission to marry) and improvements to the soldiers’ uniforms and clothing. But it was difficult to demand changes. Officers’ associations could plead for improvements by pointing to the situation of NCOs, but they could not promote their own interests directly without raising suspicion. Of course the position of officers would automatically improve if the situation of NCOs got better. The birth and rise of military unions was not only caused by grievances, but also by the general growing influence of socialism and the working classes. Shortly after World War One (1918) the Socialist Party leader Troelstra proclaimed the revolution but he soon found out that the army did not support him and so he had to acknowledge that he had made a mistake. The sailors’ union and the NCOs’ union had to be particularly careful not to be associated with the ‘red danger’. Even so, these unions were more outspoken with regard to the material interests of their members, whereas officer and Christian unions had to be more diplomatic (or were content merely to promote Christian norms and values). Government and military high-ranking officers naturally favoured the moderate associations. Colonel Schoch congratulated one of the Christian associations in a telegram saying: ‘… may God’s blessing rest on your assembly’ (Dijk 2002: 1). Unitarism, where the state, armed forces and its personnel see and feel as one group, one unit, was preponderant in this early period in the history of the military associations. But even then, the first signs of a more antagonistic relationship could be seen and confrontation became more and more pronounced over time. In 1921 the prominent liberal politician P. J. Oud remarked, in Parliament, that the officers and management of the armed forces had not followed the evolution in attitudes of soldiers and NCOs, which had developed parallel to those of the working class (Swarte 1990: 232). NCOs and sailors were very much aware of class-consciousness and the relationship with officers was certainly antagonistic to a degree. After 1933, confrontation became characteristic of the relationship of the state and the higher management of the armed forces on the one hand and the associations on the other.
Antagonism, 1933 – early 1940s Remarkably the 1920s started with more formal recognition for the associations. This was demonstrated by the birth of consultative bodies (het Georganiseerd Overleg) in the period 1920–1922 and the ‘Civil Servants Act’ of 1931. (This is discussed in more length in the section on consultative bodies.) However, a mutiny
Military unions in the Netherlands 183 on HMS Seven Provinces in 1933 gave the government a pretext for serious ‘union bashing’. After the mutiny, the military management and government were able to constrain the activities of the military associations. Consequently, union work was made extremely difficult until after World War Two. The relationship between associations on the one hand and the military establishment and the state on the other hand were manifestly antagonistic. Military management and government were in a dominant position because of the fragmentation of the military associations. Each religious faction and each rank had its own association and the associations often disagreed with one another. From Table 12.1 it can be seen that at least three different associations were active for each denomination in the rank of officers. This pattern was replicated for the NCOs. Double stratification – vertical and horizontal – along the lines of service and rank made it easy for the coalition of management and minister to play the game of divide and rule.
Corporatism, late 1940s – 1966 Antagonism was strong before World War Two, but thereafter the relationship between military management and the political authorities improved gradually over the subsequent three decades. Although the structural position of the associations remained fragmented until the 1990s, after World War Two they played an important role in organised consultative structures in which salaries, and living and working conditions were discussed. After World War Two the activism of the unions was not directed at hard bargaining and they refrained from confrontational politics which became almost impossible because of the constraints on the topics for discussion that the Ministry of Defence put onto the associations. Many of the topics dealt only with sporting facilities, recreation and the scientific interest of officers’ associations. Slowly, in the early 1970s, activism grew and the unions began to discuss societal issues. This led to increased collaboration between the unions, and in their official journals military associations often published articles on topics such as ‘democratic leadership’, unemployment benefits, budget cuts and the implications for military service personnel. By 1977, out of a total force of 130,000 over 90,000 military personnel were members of one association or another, but the debate about whether or not the organisations were associations or unions raged (Hoof 1977; Dijk 2002: 26–9). The debate was inconclusive and seemed to founder on the fear of losing negotiating power. Because of the way the consultative structure worked, the postWorld War Two period can best be described as corporatist.
Consultative pluralism since 1966; the conscript’s weapon of ridicule A milestone in 1966 was the establishment of the VVDM (Vereniging voor Dienstplichtige Militairen or Association for Conscripted Soldiers). Though officially an association, this was, in all but name, a union of conscript soldiers. Society was changing a lot during the 1960s with increasing emphasis on
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Table 12.1 Overview of some of the Associations/Unions Unitarism Marinevereniging (1886–1947) NCOV (1900) ARKO (1919) VONL (1909–1930)
Antagonism
VOKL (1930–1977) VBZ
Corporatism
Consultative Pluralism
VMO (1947–1983)
KVMO (1983 – present)
NOV (1977) VBM/LKV LKV (1965 – )
VBM/NOV (present) BBTV (present)
VMTB (1948–1987)
AFMP (1987 – present)
FACOM (1979–1982)
ACOM (1983 – present)
Ons Belang (1898–1987) AMP (1922–1988) St Martinus (1911–1975) NCOOV/CVM (1902–1978) MARVER (1907 – present) VVDM (1966–1996) AVNM (1972–1996) ABBREVIATIONS ACOM: Algemene Christelijke Organisatie van Militairen/General Christian Organisation of the Military AFMP: Algemene Federatie Militair Personeel/General federation of Military Personnel AMP: Algemene Militaire Pensioenbond/General Military Pension Union ARKO: Algemeene Roomsch-Katholieke Officierenvereeniging/General Roman Catholic Officersassociation AVNM: Algemene Vereniging van Nederlandse Militairen/General Association of NL Service Personnel BBTV: Beroepsmilitairen Bepaalde Tijd Vakbond/Union for short time personnel; in association with VBM/NOV FACOM: Federatie Algemene Christelijke Organisatie van Militairen/Federation General Christian Organisation of the Military KVMO: Koninklijke Vereniging van Marine Officieren/Royal Association of Naval Officers LKV: Landelijke Korporaals Vereniging/National Corporals Association MARVER: Marechaussee Vereniging/Union of Military Police NCOV: Nationale Christen Officieren Vereniging/National Christian Officers Association NCOOV: Nationale Christen Onder Officieren Vereniging/National Christian NCO’s Association Ons Belang: Our Interest, Union for NCO’s St Martinus: RK OnderOfficiersbondRoman Katholic NCO union St. Martinus VBZ: Vereniging belangenbehartiging Zeemacht/Association for furthering Interests of Navy personnel VBM/NOV: Vereniging Belangenbehartiging Militairen/Nederlandse Officieren Vereniging Association for furthering Interests of the Military/Netherlands Officers Association VMTB: Vereniging van Militair Technisch- en Specialistisch Beroepspersoneel/Association of Military Technical and Specialist Personnel VMO: Vereniging van Marine Officieren/Association of Naval Officers VONL: Vereeniging van Officieren van de Nederlandse Landmacht VOKL: Vereeniging van Officieren van de Koninklijke Landmacht VVDM: Vereniging voor Diensplichtige Millitairen/Association for Conscripted Soldiers *
This overview is not complete as there are many more associations that are not mentioned here such as the Nederlands Militaire Bond, Eendracht maakt Macht and Admiraal de Ruyter.
Military unions in the Netherlands 185 participation in decision-making, democracy, socialist movements, hippie culture, and a great desire for change. In many respects, the government was sympathetic to the societal changes and wanted to break the military establishment just as much as the conscript soldiers wanted to do the same. Defence Secretary Vredeling, a former union man himself, chose the side of the conscripts on many issues. For example, he came out in favour of the right to wear long hair, abolished the obligation of saluting one’s superior, and relaxed many of the suffocating regulations (Kruijf and Lardenoye 1991: 71–81). In the early days of the VVDM, subaltern officers were often in coalition with the conscript of union. They helped them to formulate action objectives and, by doing so, ameliorated living and working conditions for themselves and their men. The struggle for a salary equal to the professional level was won in phases over a period of about 25 years. As early as 1976, Teitler concluded that the conscript union was a success and indeed, it was successful but for many different reasons. The government was open to change and wanted to diminish the influence of the archaic armed forces management, i.e. the establishment of generals. Progressive officers also supported the soldiers’ union. Van Eerden (1986) pointed to the fact that the VVDM fitted in with the youth movements of the 1960s and the protest generation that was part of the world-wide ‘flower power’ subculture. But, maybe the main reason for success was the effective use of the weapon of ridicule. As it is impossible for soldiers to go on strike they used the weapon of ridicule to gain the attention of the media, to obtain societal support and to put pressure on the authorities. On ‘national greeting days’ the soldiers saluted everything they met in their barracks, not only fellow soldiers, but also streetlights, free wandering chickens – whatever took their fancy (Burger 1976: 61, 83). Though initially repressed, the protests paid off later and the duty to greet superiors was abolished. Similar actions concerning the right to choose one’s hairstyle attracted much media attention (Meulen and Nuij 2004). Three soldiers with long-haired wigs handed in a petition signed by thousands of soldiers and sympathising civilians at the doorstep of the Ministry of Defence. In the early 1970S, one long-haired soldier, Rinus Wehrman, was put in military detention, provoking almost every conscript and many sympathising civilians to plea for Wehrman to be set free and to demand freedom of hair-style. In the end the government gave in to the union’s demand. Other important achievements of the conscript union concerned pay and the improvement of working and living conditions. Playing with power balances was an art that was mastered by the military managerial elite. Management struck back when the VVDM was inevitably becoming more political. The VVDM used such unorthodox methods for achieving their goals as protest marches in uniform, work-to-rule actions and the use of the media. In time, they became associated with socialism, the peace movement, anti nuclear weapons groups, conscientious objector groups, and even anarchistic anti-armed forces groups (Kruijf and Lardenoye 1991: 115–39). As a result the military management began to promote a rival conscript union (the AVNM which was established in 1972) and was very successful. They made it very difficult for
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the VVDM to recruit and an anti-VVDM campaign was initiated based upon their involvement in leaking information on nuclear weapons to the newspapers. Membership dropped from approximately 30,000 to 5,000 and lower. But the union recovered somewhat in the 1980s and was very successful in highlighting the phenomenon of violence in the armed forces (hazing practices). In 1990, the VVDM was the first union of soldiers in the world to be associated with a large civil federation of unions, the FNV. The conscript union had been successful to a high degree. Not only did the union improve the life of its members, but, most importantly, it also taught the other military associations how to function as a union. Because of constant repression in the early days of military associations, the organisations had forgotten how to wheel and deal, how to negotiate, and how to reach objectives by the use of political action and the weapon of ridicule. The present unions still benefit from the example of the conscript union long after the suspension of conscription in 1996. The VVDM officially ended on 14 September 1996. The merit of the conscript unions is that they have introduced consultative pluralism in the negotiating structure. No doubt consultative pluralism would also have been introduced without the conscript unions, but the conditions for the conscripts to make the breakthrough were the most favourable. Timing, sub- and youth culture, serious grievances and a benevolent management all worked on the side of the conscripts.
Military unions after 1996; the continuation of consultative pluralism The fall of the Berlin Wall in 1989 amplified the changes that were already set in motion. The all-volunteer force unions, however, continued in the tradition of the conscript unions to negotiate along consultative pluralist lines. Since 1989, the Netherlands armed forces have been in a continuous state of reorganisation and restructuring (Wijk 2004). Inevitably, the changes are related to the perception of security. No longer was it expected that the Netherlands would only defend territory in Northern Germany against a large enemy. The first of the reorganisations were announced in the ‘1991 Defence White Paper’. In this official governmental document, it was planned to reduce military personnel by 16 per cent in only four years (from 1991 to 1995). But, that was only the beginning. The ‘Priorities Review’ of 1993 stated that a strategic attack from the former Soviet Union was no longer to be expected. This change in perceived risks and security led to an emphasis on peacekeeping operations. The most important restructuring decision in 1992–1993 was related to conscription (Noll 2005). The Netherlands did not abolish conscription. In 1992, they suspended the so-called ‘first exercise’ and so by 1996 the last conscript left the army. From that time, therefore, the armed forces were effectively an allvolunteer force and this obviously led to the dissolution of the conscript unions – VVDM and AVNM.
Military unions in the Netherlands 187 Downsizing continued following announcements in various policy papers including the ‘Novemberbrief, 1994’, the ‘hoofdlijnennotitie, 1999’, the Defence White Paper, 2000 and diverse ‘priority reviews’. The 2000 Defence White Paper stated that the core tasks of the Dutch armed forces were as follows: • • •
protecting the integrity of national and allied territory, including the Netherlands Antilles and Aruba; advancing the international rule of law and stability; assisting the civil authorities in the context of law enforcement, disaster relief and humanitarian aid, both nationally and internationally.
Perpetual restructuring seems to have become the norm. The objective of the reforms mentioned in the ‘letter to parliament 30 June 2003’ was to create an expeditionary force, spend less money and at the same time create possibilities for new investments. The latest reduction of 12,000 personnel will certainly be one of the most difficult restructuring goals to be implemented. This reduction will take place between 2003 and 2008 and will probably result in the involuntary dismissal of 5,000 persons. Naturally, all these changes deeply concern the unions who discuss the policy intentions and plans intensively with the authorities. During the 1990s, many of the associations merged, corporals’ and officers’ associations joined forces and became one union. Nowadays, there are five remaining unions,6 all affiliated to civilian federal national unions. It is difficult to say whether these transformations were caused by the geo-political changes brought about by the fall of the Berlin Wall or not but they probably accelerated matters. Nowadays, the unions are all associated with civilian unions and work and function in the same professional manner as the civilian unions. Much of the regulations and rights concerning participation have converged with the civilian sector, with a few exceptions (see next section). Today there is nothing remarkable about military unions in the Netherlands. They are accepted key partners in the consultative structure. The last chapter of the book by Heckers (1998) on the history of the union AFMP is called ‘Big Changes’ and refers to the post-Cold War era. The book by Dijk (2002), where the last 20 years of the history of the union ACOM is discussed, also implies large changes. Indeed, many changes have taken place since 1966 and the tasks of the military have changed because of it. Union work is very necessary and important in the post-Cold War era, but when one considers a time line of approximately 100 years, the changes have not been dramatically large; rather the change has been evolutionary. The associations have evolved into very professional unions that are only different from civilian unions on a few – but important – points. The unions and the consultative structure reflect the general pluralist culture that characterises the larger Dutch society and in this respect they have broken away from the corporatist consultative system that was characteristic of period from 1945 to the 1970s.
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CONSULTATIVE STRUCTURES AND THE LIMITS TO PARTICIPATION The consultative structures have gradually developed from the rivalries and conflicts between the actors in the system. The genesis of these consultative structures has not only been slow, in the Netherlands it took a period of 100 years, but it has been characterised by many steps forward and back. Consultation7 was non-existent in the first stage at the beginning of the nineteenth century. Requests by the associations were invariably turned down. The relationship between the Navy Minister and the Union of Sailors, for example, was extremely fragile. In 1907 the Lower House of Parliament forced the government to discuss the relationship with the associations. The Minister was willing to take into consideration moderate remarks and suggestions by the associations, but did not accept the idea of consultation. This debate resumed in Parliament after World War One and in the years from 1920 to 1922 consultative bodies (het Georganiseerd Overleg) for civil servants, the navy and the army were established. The committees, divided according to rank, consisted of crown members and representatives of the associations. The Minister, however, took the view that the committees were useful for doing preliminary work, but the actual decision making was a ministerial prerogative. In 1931 a military Civil Servants Act was passed which gave the consultative bodies a legal basis. It made consultation obligatory and took away from Ministers the freedom to decide what should be or should not be discussed. However, after the 1933 mutiny on the ship the Seven Provinces, the government’s fear of the associations led to consultation being seriously constrained by the ‘Belangenreglement’ (regulation of interests). Eighteen regulations considerably limited the work of the associations, and prohibited ties with civilian unions. The ‘Belangenreglement’ was softened after 1949 and in 1967 the Minister of Defence, Den Toom, withdrew it.8 Thereafter consultative bodies were more accepted and became regulated and institutionalised. Differences in consultation between civilian and military personnel were harmonised after 1993. By law, consultation is now obligatory (Coolen 2001: 49) and can only be put aside under exceptional operational conditions. In 1993 consultation9 with civil servants was decentralised and differentiated into eight sectors: the state, defence, education, police, justice, municipalities, provinces and water board districts. The military unions are represented in four groups or ‘centrales’ (see Table 12.2). These groups have the power to influence negotiations in the defence sector, but they can also influence the advisory bodies of the Social Economic Council (Sociaal Economische Raad) and the Labour Foundation (Stichting van de Arbeid). This is because the military unions are associated with the three large civilian federations: Federation of Trade Unions (Federatie Nederlandse Vakbeweging); Christian Union Federation (Christelijk Nationaal Vakverbond); and Federation of White Collar Organisations (Middelbaar en Hoger Personeel). There are several levels at which consultation within the defence sector takes place. In the Defence Consultation Sector (Sector Overleg Defensie) four
Military unions in the Netherlands 189 ‘centrales’ negotiate with the Assistant Secretary of State about conditions of employment, such as salaries, working hours, unemployment benefits, benefits for the disabled, employability, emancipation, flex work relations and travel expenses. Inside the Defence Consultation Sector (Sector Overleg Defensie) there are Special Committees (Bijzondere Commissies) for each service. The Special Committees are presided over by the respective commanders of the services, such as the commander of the army who is a three-star general. Topics debated are service related and concern such items as restructuring, organisation change, personnel assessments and career management policies. Table 12.2 summarises and defines the actors in the consultative structure; a military union like the AFMP is represented in the ACOP ‘centrale’ and thereby has influence on the negotiations that take place in the Defence Consultation Sector and in the Special Committees. The AFMP is also associated with the FNV and it can, therefore, have its voice heard in the Labour Foundation and the Social Economic Council. The consultative structure regulates participation of union members regarding policy making higher up in the organisation. However, there is also a consultative Table 12.2 Actors in the consultative structure Federations of the Foundation of the Labour and Social Economic Council
Defence Consultation Sector and Special Committees
Military Unions
ACOP General Centrale for Governmental Personnel
AFMP General Federation of Military Personnel
MarVer
CCOOP Christian Centrale for Governmental and Educational Personnel
ACOM General Christian Organisation of the Military
CNV Christian Union Federation
CMHF Centrale for Middle and Higher Functionaries
KVMO Royal Association of Naval Officers
MHP Federation of White Collar Organisations
AC Civil Servants’ Centrale
VBM/NOV Association for furthering the Interests of the Military/ Netherlands Officers Association BBTV Union for short time personnel; indirectly represented in the Civil Servants Centrale through VBM/NOV
FNV Federation of Trade Unions
VBM/NOV is not represented in the Foundation of Labour and Social Economic Council
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structure that regulates participation of personnel at the ‘shop floor’ level (i.e. the level of a brigade or an air force base) by the use of works councils. The works council at unit level is the lowest level at which consultation is organised. Since the beginning of the twenty-first century the legislation regulating works councils in the armed forces has corresponded to the act on civilian works councils (Wet op de Ondernemingsraad). No longer are there many differences between the civilian sector and the armed forces. The few exceptions relate to operational conditions, exercises, deployments, or preparation for war. However, incidents that occur during an exercise or deployment can be discussed afterwards. Even though battalion commanders are not obliged to consult a works council during a deployment, most of them prefer to continue by calling consultative meetings, simply because the commander also profits from the advice and support from this council. Unions can appoint candidates to be elected for a works council, but independent candidates are eligible when they have support from 30 colleagues. The number of members in a works council depends on the size of the organisation. Half of the members have to be been posted into the work unit for longer than a year. The commander cannot be elected to the works council because, as he already presides over the meetings of works council, he cannot be expected to represent the interests of his military personnel at the same time as serving the goals of the organisation. The works council has the right of approval (instemmingsrecht) over all cases that are within the commander’s sole responsibility.10 In all other cases the works council has advisory rights. For instance, the Working Conditions Act is one of the things where advisory rights apply, but the law states that a commander is personally responsible11 and therefore he will take into account the advice from the works council seriously. The power of the works council comes from above and from below. From above there is the procedure with possibilities for appeal. For example when there is no agreement on a request for advice the works council can go to appeal after this request has been dealt with on two successive occasions. However, a commander will usually try to prevent things getting out of hand before it comes to appeal, because it is time consuming and because working relationships can be affected. Seen from below, it is very clear that the works council is also useful to the commander and the organisation because it provides possibilities to create shop floor support for organisational change and it gives personnel the chance to ameliorate plans in the interest of all participants. Participation has evolved into a working system, but there are limitations as well. Scheelen (1985) summarised six cases in which military personnel are restricted in the ways they can practise participation. But incidents will happen and often there are also alternative routes that can help to achieve the objective or draw media attention to the problem. 1
Military personnel do not have the right to go on strike12 but since 1993 a ‘sluitstukregeling’ (breech-block13 arrangement) is in effect for the settlement of major conflicts. This arrangement is a last resort possibility after an
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2
3
4
5
arbitration committee has proven unsuccessful. When the ‘breech-block’ arrangement is called for, it is obligatory for it to reach a conclusion. It is possible, however, for the conclusion to be that the conflict is insoluble (Coolen 2001: 61–2). Even though military personnel do not have the right to go on strike, less extreme incidents of collective action are evaluated individually and weighed against the interest of the state and public order. Personnel do have the right to hold public meetings. When the unions wanted to protest against the increased age limits for retirement from 55 to 58 they called for a public meeting on 5 December 2003 at the ‘Binnenhof’ (a square in front of Parliament in The Hague). So, while military service personnel are prohibited from striking even for one day or from going to a protest marches during working hours, they are allowed to go to public meetings called by the unions. The 5th of December is also the feast of Saint Nicholas, and – as is the tradition on this day – 3,000 personnel brought their shoes to the public meeting and demonstratively piled them up in front of Parliament.14 Service personnel must abide by norms laid down in criminal law such as committing ‘eigen richting’ (taking the law in own hands). On 4 April 1967 in the Amsterdam central railway station a group of 80 young marines ‘corrected’ a group of youngsters who where teasing girls. In June 1992 in a similar incident in Rotterdam – again at a railway station – a group of 100 marines swept clean ‘Perron nul’ (platform zero) where a bunch of heroin addicts were causing a nuisance to the public. Both actions were condemned as unlawful by government authorities and disciplinary measures followed. Consequently, some ‘lessons in democratic behaviour’ were added to the training curriculum for marines. But, after a dressing-down by the commandant, the marines were given cake and compliments from the sympathising citizens of Rotterdam. The Minister of Defence is always responsible for the actions of civil servants, which is why governmental officials have to be able to rely on their employees. Leaking information to the press is not appreciated. However, it has happened on several instances when active serving personnel publicly disagreed with official policy and spoke out in the newspapers. In the early 1990s Lieutenant-General Hans Couzy did not agree with the process of decision making regarding the conditions for deployment of troops in UNPROFOR/Bosnia and stated so in a newspaper, for which he was reprimanded by Minister Ter Beek. Later, after the dramatic fall of Srebrenica, Bert Kreemers (2002), a spokesman from the Ministry of Defence, was sidelined for publicly stating that a parliamentary inquiry into Srebrenica was desirable. Leakage of information or publicly stated opinions from active serving personnel is frowned upon, but nothing hinders retired generals from speaking out in public. Protesting against government policies outside working hours and outside military terrain is allowed but not in uniform (though this happened in the 1980s during protest marches against nuclear arms). However, sometimes,
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The incidents mentioned above clearly exceed the limits set for participation by the armed forces. But incidents happen and are important in demarcating the boundaries. Though the examples show that there is a thin line between what is acceptable and what is not, they also show that when operating with subtlety, much more is possible than appears to be the case.
CONCLUSIONS
Consultative pluralism The figurational approach to the phenomenon of military unions can help an understanding of the reasons why unions may or may not gain influence and be accepted as negotiating partners. Changes in societal strengths, which promote the openness or receptiveness of societies and which allow for moderate forms of conflict, form the preconditions for changes in power balances and the growing acceptance of military unions. Gradual change is the norm in the Netherlands. The evolutionary model of change is interesting in that it supports Moskos’s ‘institution/occupation’ hypothesis. The Moskos model (1986, 2000) describes a development from ‘institution’ towards ‘occupation’ implying that armed forces in post-modern times are market-oriented, small professional organisations. Recruitment, pay and working conditions change to meet the standard that applies in the civilian sector of working life. According to this hypothesis, armed forces and civilian organisations are converging and soldiering will become a job like any other. It is also in line with this hypothesis that unions will be accepted in post-modern times. The ‘institution-occupation’ hypothesis suggests that the largest amount of change occurs in the post-modern era, i.e. after the fall of the Berlin Wall. The transformation towards the occupational model will take place in this period. In the Netherlands the transformation was much more gradual and took place over a period of around 100 years. In the Netherlands, military unions have been in existence in times when the armed forces were still very much ‘institutions’. In the early years of the twentieth century the associations of military service personnel can be characterised as dominantly ‘unitary’. In the 1920s consultative structures were established, but in the 1930s the government repressed the
Military unions in the Netherlands 193 associations and the relationship became antagonistic. After World War Two the government introduced corporatist forms of consultation in an effort of post-war reconstruction. The Dutch used a corporatist-like solution to come to terms with the tensions and conflicts of pluralism. Social partners sometimes are opponents and sometimes are allies in this figuration. Allegiances will shift from time to time, and coalitions will change if a window of opportunity opens. These corporatist forms of consultation evolved into a pluralist model of consultation in the late 1960s thanks to the activism of conscript unions. After discussing in a nutshell the history of around 100 years of unionism one of the key questions concerns the effectiveness and influence of the unions. Hollinshead and Leat (1995) suggest that the unions in the Netherlands are influential because the state and the employers want them to have influence. It is important to note that the influence of trade unions in the Netherlands has been greater than might be indicated by union membership density; the centralised system, extension of collectively determined terms and conditions, and the unions’ role in economic, social and welfare policy determination and administration have all served to assure the unions of greater influence … this role (of the unions) can only be performed with the acquiescence of both other participants, government and employers … (Hollinshead and Leat 1995: 227) Hollinshead and Leat have a point here. All three partners in the figuration invest goodwill in the relationship and without this goodwill the tensions and conflicts could become much sharper and the relationship could in the end become antagonistic. Because of the goodwill of all parties involved, the unions have become co-authors of the employment conditions and in this respect they are influential and effective in representing the interests of their members. On the other hand, the same process that grants the unions their influence also binds them and pacifies them. Unions that participate in this way in the consultative structure are bound to the narrow margins that are characteristic of policy making and they cannot cross these boundaries by walking away from the negotiation table. They are limited in the way they can practise confrontation politics. Strikes are out of the question, as it would most probably hurt the legitimacy of the unions and their credibility. Of course there is still the very effective weapon of ridicule and it is also possible to stretch the limitations to collective action a little bit, but in the end the bargaining process is civilised and non-antagonistic. In fact the bargaining process is formalised in the ‘Defence Employment Conditions Process’ (Defensie Arbeidsvoorwaardenprocess). Nowadays the partners in the ‘figuration’ take the bargaining process to the negotiation table and seldom does one of them take the bargaining to the streets or the barricades. Class struggle has become institutionalised with the government as a third party, and sometimes as tertius gaudens, the laughing third. Consultative pluralism has pacified the class struggle.
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Notes 1 The law forbade labour for children below 12 years. This law was not effective because of lack of control. In 1901 the law on compulsory education (leerplicht) ended child labour effectively. 2 After World War Two social security became organised at state level. 3 A short history of unions can be found at the internet, an entry page discusses all possible union related topics and serves as a portal. 4 Source: Central Bureau of Statistics. 5 Van der Velden (2000, 2004) gives an overview of strikes from the last 200 years in a table that is also published on the internet. The table comprises o.a. year, number of strikes, number of days of strike action, and more. (accessed 24–2-2004). 6 BBTV and VBM/NOV are counted as one union. 7 Louwerse (1993) thoroughly sketches the history of the genesis of consultative structures, which is utterly linked to the stages in the history of the military unions. Here only a synopsis can be given. 8 Who, incidently, was discussed in the previous section as the person opposing to ‘long-haired’ soldiers. 9 The 1993 consultative structure is in effect to the present. 10 One might be surprised to learn how small or how large the responsibility of the commander is. Consider the buildings where a brigade is located; they do not belong to the brigade itself and maintenance is a matter of long-term planning. A commander has some influence, but he has no final authority by himself. 11 When asbestos is found, a commander must take action. Likewise, when there are complaints on sexual harassment, he may even be legally punishable if he neglects the complaints. 12 The matter of strikes is complex. In 1978 the Minister of Defence acknowledged the principle that civil servants have the right to strike. The principle is accepted in theory but not in practice (Kuyt 1981: 56). Union spokesmen regard the ‘breechblock’ arrangement as a trade-off for the right to strike. 13 Literal translation. 14 The protest was successful. The government agreed to a subtler implementation and allowed a transitional phase for the oldest categories of personnel.
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Military unions in the Netherlands 195 Eerden, P. J. M. van (1986) ‘De geboorte van de VVDM 1 en 2’ [The Genesis of a Conscript Union, part 1 and 2] KIM-spiegel, 21, nr 82: 16–33; nr. 83: 17–40. Elias, N. (1939) Ueber den Prozess der Zivilisation [The Civilizing Process]. Basel: Haus zum Falken. Giele, J. (1979) Arbeidersleven in Nederland 1850–1914 [Workers Lives in the Netherlands 1850–1914]. Nijmegen: Sun. Harries-Jenkins, G. (1977) ‘Trade Unions in Armed Forces’. in W. J. Taylor, R. J Arango, and R. S. Lockwood (eds) Military Unions: U.S. Trends and Issues. Beverly Hills: Sage. Heckers, J. (1998) Noch noodig, noch gewenscht. Honderd jaar vakbond voor militairen [Not Needed, Nor Wanted. Hundred Years Union for Soldiers]. Delft: Eburon/AFMP. Hoof, J. A. P. van (1977) ‘Belangengroepen in de krijgsmacht’ [Interest Groups in the Armed Forces], in H. J. H. Brentjens and C. F. Turpijn (eds) Welzijn en krijgsmacht [Welfare and Armed Forces]. Deventer: Van Loghum Slaterus. Hollinshead, G. and Leat, M. (1995) Human Resource Management. An International and Comparative Perspective. London: Pitman Publishing. Jonge, J. A. de (1976; 1st edn 1968) De industrialisatie in Nederland tussen 1850 en 1914. [Industrialisation in the Netherlands between 1850 and 1914]. Nijmegen: Sun. Kreemers, B. (2002) De achterkant van de maan: Haagse schaduwen over Srebrenica [At the Back of the Moon, The Hague’s Shadows over Srebrenica]. Amsterdam: Prometheus. Kruijf, F. de and Lardenoye, F. (1991) Over lef gesproken! 25 jaar VVDM [Talk about Guts! 25 Years of a Soldiers Union]. Breda: De Geus. Kuyt, C. A. (1981) Belangenbehartiging Vakbeweging Defensie. [Representation of Interests, Unions, Defence]. ‘s-Gravenhage: Stichting Volk en Verdediging. Louwerse, L. A. (1993) ‘Belangenbehartiging bij de krijgsmacht’ [Representation of Interests in the Armed Forces] Kernvraag, nr. 103: 20–37. Meulen, J. S. van der and Nuij, N. P. M. (2004) ‘Ongelooflijk maar waar. De triomf van de langharige soldaat’ [Unbelievable, but True. The Triumph of the Long-haired Soldier] in J. Hoffenaar, J. van der Meulen and R. de Winter (eds) Confrontatie en ontspanning [Confrontation and Relaxation]. Den Haag: Sdu Uitgevers. Moelker, R. (2004) Democratic Decision-making and Deployments: The Case of the Netherlands’ Peacekeepers in Srebrenica and Iraq. Available at HTTP: Geneva: DCAF (Democratic Control Armed Forces) Working Paper, July, 24 pages. Moskos, C. C. (1986) ‘Institutional/Occupational Trends in Armed Forces: An Update’, Armed Forces and Society, 12: 377–82. Moskos, C. C., Williams, J. A. and Segal, D. R. (2000) The Postmodern Military. New York: Oxford University Press. Noll, J. E. (2005) Leadership and Institutional Reform in Consensual Democracies. Dutch and Swedish Defence Organizations after the Cold War. Göttingen: Cuvillier Verlag. Regt, A. de (1985; 1st edn 1984) Arbeidersgezinnen en beschavingsarbeid [Working Class Families and Labour of Civilization]. Meppel/Amsterdam: Boom. Scheelen, W. (1985) ‘Belangenbehartiging en politiek’ [Military Unionism and Politics] Carré, 13: 6–11. Schouten, J. E. (2003) Gewapende mannen, geweldloze strijd … Opkomst en vestiging van een belangenorganisatie voor Spaanse militairen [Armed Men, Fight Without Violence … Rise and Establishment of an Interest Group for Spanish Soldiers]. Unpublished Master’s Thesis. Department of Anthropology, Free University Amsterdam, The Netherlands.
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Schriemer, R. (2003) ‘Wij willen meer zijn dan een loonboer’ [We Want to be More than a Slave for Wages], NRC Handelsblad Thema Vakbeweging, 2 November: 46. Swarte, J. L. (1990) ‘Honderd jaargangen belangenbehartiging’ [Hundred Years of Representation of Interests] in D. C. L. Schoonoord (ed.) Honderd Jaargangen Marineblad [Hundred Years Naval Journal] KVMO, 224–38. Teitler, G. (1976) ‘The Successful Case of Military Unionization in the Netherlands’, Armed Forces and Society, 2, 517–28. Velden, J. A. (2000) Stakingen in Nederland: arbeidersstrijd 1830–1995 [Strikes in the Netherlands, 1830–1995]. Amsterdam: Stichting Beheer IISG. Velden, S. (2004) Werknemers in actie. Twee eeuwen stakingen, bedrijfsbezettingen en andere acties in Nederland [Employees in Action, Two centuries of strike and action]. Amsterdam: Aksant Academic Publishers. Wijk, R. de (2004) ‘Defensiebeleid in relatie tot veiligheidsbeleid’ [Policies for the Armed forces Related to Security Policies] in E. R. Muller et al. (eds) Krijgsmacht. Studies over de organisatie en het optreden. [Armed forces, Studies on the Organization and its Functioning]. Alphen a/d Rijn: Kluwer.
13 Danish military trade unions and their political role Henning Sørensen
INTRODUCTION Denmark’s foreign policy and defence policy is the background within which Danish military unions have to function. So, these two aspects will be briefly analysed in order to reveal the rather unique Danish profile compared to most other Western nations. Danish foreign policy has shifted more drastically than the changes at the end of the Cold War period implied. Indeed, though Denmark is a small nation she has moved in a more militaristic direction since the end of the Cold War and in particular since 9/11. As a result Denmark today can be seen as a strategic offensive actor in foreign policy combining diplomatic efforts with military deployment abroad. Danish defence policy has recently been adapted to this new foreign policy. Consequently, in 2004 Denmark decided – in contrast to most other Western countries – to increase both the personnel strength of its armed forces and its operational capability by doubling the number of soldiers for deployment in missions abroad from some 1,000 to around 2,000 by 2009. Thus, more than one-tenth of the total Danish military strength of 18,500 contracted soldiers is earmarked for international missions. This chapter will focus on the three Danish military unions and their role in these changes. It will show that they are not obstacles but important prerequisites and contributors to military effectiveness.
THE NEW DANISH FOREIGN POLICY Following the Cold War period, the end of the Warsaw Pact Treaty and the dissolution of the USSR many Western countries were facing in a new security situation without obvious enemies but still with many allies in NATO and the EU. This shift in security position can be described by a simple model combining the presence and absence of enemies and allies for any nation. According to the model, most Western countries have moved from collective security (having both allies and enemies during the Cold War era) to selective security – as I call it – in the present period, still having allies but now no easily identifiable enemies (see Figure 13.1). Figure 13.1 can be used to illustrate the security position of any country. Here it is shown for Denmark over more than a thousand years. In the Viking Era,
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−
Enemies
+
Independent Security
Isolated Security
Viking Era (750–1050)
Middle Ages (1050–1397) Renaissance (1923–1945)
Allies +
Selective Security
Collective Security
Offensive Diplomacy (1990 – −>)
The Kalmarunion (1397–1523) Cold War period (1949–1990)
Figure 13.1 National security positions of Denmark, 750–2005AD
Denmark – with neither enemies nor allies but scarring our neighbours with pre-emptive strikes – had independent security. In the following almost 800 years Denmark had no allies but was competing with/threatened by/fighting Germany and Sweden and then experienced isolated security. Only in two shorter periods during the Kalmarunion and the Cold War period, Denmark with both allies and enemies had collective security. Today, Denmark – and most other Western nations – is placed in what could be said to be the best of all four positions, that of selective security. In this situation even smaller nations have increased room of manoeuvre and thereby the possibility to select from different foreign policy objectives. For example, in the beginning of the 1990s Denmark and Germany were asked by the UN to send troops to Bosnia and Somalia. Denmark decided to deploy soldiers to Bosnia but not to Somalia while Germany did it the other way round. With the disappearance of old threats from former hostile nations of the Warsaw Pact countries, the new Danish security conditions now have to deal with the emergence of hostile forces such as terrorism, dictatorships (Iran, Syria, North Korea) crime and so on. This has, however, been accompanied by an even greater change in Danish foreign policy. In the Cold War period Denmark was stigmatized by the introduction of the term ‘Denmarkization’, referring to a country being protected but unwilling to pay the price (Heurlin 1995). It would, perhaps, be fairer to say that Denmark in the Cold War period could be characterized as a defensive, non-provocative actor, then in the time just after as a civilian/military actor and following 9/11 as a strategic offensive actor. She is certainly now committed to the fast deployment of armed force as an appropriate means to confront hostile forces in the international system (Rynning 2003: 24). Historically, the major change in Danish foreign policy came in 1991 when Denmark decided to join the UN-supported war against Iraq with the vessel Olfert Fischer. This was underlined later by the commitment of forces to the UN-peacekeeping effort to stop the civil war in the Balkans in the mid-1990s, in the NATO IFOR-/SFOR/KFOR-campaign from 1996 and onwards and in the NATO war against Serbia in Kosovo in 1999. Since 9/11 Danish diplomatic initiatives
Danish trade unions 199 have been followed-up by direct war efforts such as our participation in the Afghan War of 2001 against the Taliban government and the Iraqi War of 2003 against the regime of Saddam Hussein. As a strategic offensive actor of today, Denmark is now one of Europe’s most willing countries to deploy her armed forces abroad in multinational military operations. A geographical counting of ‘Danish forces abroad’ by 10 January 2005 showed that Denmark had 353 soldiers in Balkan, 69 in Afghanistan, 5 in the USA, 526 in Iraq, 26 in South-East Asia, 7 as observers in EU-missions and 42 in UN-missions in Afghanistan, Liberia, Sierra Leone, Middle East, Congo, Sudan and East Timor - a total of 1,028 soldiers abroad (CS-bladet February 2005: 13). Looked at from an actor perspective Denmark has 534 soldiers in coalition-forces (run by the USA), 423 in NATO-run operations, 65 in UN-led missions and 7 in EU-monitoring missions (as observers), a total of 1,029 (Danske officerer January 2005: 26). The Danish strategic offensive role is even more significant when related to Denmark’s decision – based on a referendum of 1993 – of never becoming engaged in EU military matters, including participation in EU-run military missions. Denmark has opted out of the defence policy aspects of the Maastricht Treaty, which means that we will have to leave Bosnia when the international military leadership there is taken over from NATO by the EU. In short, with the shift from collective to selective security Danish soldiers have moved from ‘available’ to be “used” (Larsen 2005, interview). The wish to be a strategic offensive actor in general, but inactive in EU-military affairs has left Denmark with the option of siding with the USA in foreign policy. As a result, Denmark can now deploy soldiers abroad and play the role of a strategic offensive actor. A short list of differences between the foreign policy of the USA and of the EU – if such a policy can be identified – is shown in Table 13.1. Table 13.1 argues that the USA defines a goal, is willing to run a risk and pay the price of casualties in order to change things based on their definition of the self-interest of the USA. Europe, on the other hand, is interested in avoiding casualties; believes things may recover by themselves; goes for stability/continuity more than changes; and is only motivated to interfere in cases of the violation of international law such as ignored UN Security Resolutions and Human Rights Declarations. Thus, where the USA role model is as ‘a leader’, the European selfidentification is as ‘a human balancer’. Denmark has, no doubt, decided to side with the USA. This is illustrated by the number of Danish soldiers abroad, their global deployment, and their significant presence in military coalitions led by the USA. Their motivation for deployment is to make a difference and identify the national interest when participating in a mission. It is also revealed by the mere idea of a Danish ‘first-in-first-out’ defence policy (Termansen et al. 2004) even if Denmark has no resources to do so by itself. Indeed, some argue that we would be better employed on humanitarian missions (Dahl 2004, Lund 2005). Officially, the policy of combining diplomatic and military efforts has been set out by the Foreign Office and the Defence Department in an enclosure to the new Danish Defence Agreement (2004).
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Table 13.1 Differences in the Foreign Policies of the USA and Europe
Aims Argument Action to work for Motivation Actual strategy Action trigger Actor role
USA
Europe
Goal-realisation ‘It may hurt but it helps’ Change Make a difference Self interest Interests Changer
Casualty-avoidance ‘It heals over time’ Stability and continuity Contribute to peace Institution defined Ideology (Human Rights) Hesitator
THE NEW DANISH DEFENCE POLICY Today Danish foreign policy is backed by a new Defence Agreement that has received broad support from the major political parties in Parliament. It marks a shift from large mobilization forces based on conscription to the use of its armed forces as expeditionary units. Another change is the fusion of the three service personnel agencies into one organization ‘Forsvarets Personeltjeneste’ (FPT) – Defence Personnel Service – which now controls 10 billion DKK (or 53 per cent) of the total Danish defence budget of 19 billion DKK (around 2.5 billion US$). A similar fusion has taken place between the former three material agencies to form ‘Forsvarets Materieltjenestes Centralledelse’ (FMT – CL) – Defence Material Service. A third change is the militarization of personnel both by an increase in more soldiers: NCOs and regulars and a reduction in civilians and, in particular, a shift from fewer support soldiers to more front line soldiers. A fourth change is the expansion of the personnel strength of the Danish armed forces from 26,952 in 2004 to 29,692 in 2009 (see Table 13.2 which was compiled for this chapter by FPT). Table 13.2 shows that, of the five personnel groups, i.e. officers, NCOs, regulars, conscripts and civilians, the ‘winner’ in the new defence policy changes is the army regulars whose numbers have increased by more than 50 per cent while the ‘loser’ is the civilian personnel whose numbers have been reduced by one fourth (26 per cent). The expansion of the number of conscripts is a consequence of their shorter period of service from nine to only four months increasing the need for more conscripts. The conscription period has not only been reduced, the content of their education has changed from military to civilian oriented themes such as first aid, civilemergency service, catastrophe-management and surveillance. Conscripts can now be compared with rescue-workers. But, the political reason/decision for maintaining a conscription system is not to get more rescue-workers but to have a pool of young men from whom a future recruitment of soldiers for all three services can take place. For this reason the new conscription system has been criticized for only ‘educating conscripts to a specific level’ (Lund 2005: 3). For the record, the calculation in Table 13.2 differs from the prescribed reduction shown in the Defence Agreement (2004: pt. 15) from 29,000 man-years
Danish trade unions 201 Table 13.2 Composition of Danish Armed Forces 2004–2009* 2004 Top row; 2009 Bottom row Army
Navy Army
AirF Navy
Comb AirF
Total Comb
2004–2009 Total % Diff
Lt.Col. >
116 100
44 51
36 46
246 238
442 435
−2
Lt.-Maj
1401 1333
513 621
625 644
839 973
3378 3571
+6
NCOs
1963 2344
712 780
1105 1208
565 740
4345 5072
+17
Regulars
2783 5144
1300 1611
1602 1653
531 1030
6216 9438
+52
Conscripts
4904 5460
372 324
0 150
35 0
5311 5934
+12
Total Military
11167 14381
2941 3387
3368 3701
2216 2981
19692 24450
+24
Civilians
2028 189
318 290
766 86
4148 4677
7260 5242
−26
13195 14570
3259 3677
4134 3787
6364 7658
26952 29692
+10
84 99
90 92
81 98
35 39
73 82
All % Mil/All
*These figures differ from the prescribed reduction in the Defence Agreement (2004: pt. 15) from 29,000 man-year in 2004 to 26,400 in 2009.
in 2004 to 26,400 in 2009. As any personnel or material increase has to be budget-neutral, such a growth has to be met by reductions elsewhere. Here the above-mentioned amalgamation of the personnel and materials agencies together with the closing down of submarines and HAWK squadrons, comes to mind. Another organizational change is the establishment of three new military organizations: The Danish Division consisting of 2,567 soldiers of which 1,302 are permanently active; an expeditionary 1st Brigade of 4,316 soldiers of which 3,365 are permanently present to be the reserve from which soldiers can be deployed abroad at short notice; and finally an educational 2nd Brigade of 3,974 soldiers of which 962 are permanently educating 2,310 conscripts (Christiansen 2004: 4). Though these changes are in accord with the new foreign policy the trade unions fear that some personnel groups, such as officers, will profit more from them than others, such as NCOs and regulars (Christiansen 2004: 4). Others
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see an organizational problem arising from the construction of the 1st Brigade which will be supervised by such a large number of higher ranking officers above the chief of the 1st Brigade that they all might expect to have some influence in its running (Lund 2005: 3). All these projected changes can, of course, be subject to regulations. The Danish Defence Command (DC) has the right and the obligation to make other changes as long as the total budget effects are zero. But, it will be judged by politicians and the public by its capability to produce a defence budget with a black figure on the bottom line despite any damage this might do to capabilities. For instance, rumours have it that the armed forces will be short of money of between 1.5 and 1 billion DKK a year (Jyllandsposten 30.03.2005: 2). This report attracted more public attention than its consequences. In short, the Danish armed forces are becoming more politically scrutinized, militarized and centralized.
THE DANISH MILITARY TRADE UNIONS This section will examine the background in which Danish military trade unions are functioning in the light of the changes described above. It will begin with a short description of the three Danish military trade unions. This will be followed by an analysis from four different angles of their role and reaction to the major changes of the Danish defence organization as a result of the new foreign policy and defence policy. Three military trade unions are of significance in the Danish armed forces. Together, they organize all military personnel. At first sight, rank and service seem to be the criteria for the trade union division of soldiers. But it is more correct to say that this division is based on education (see Table 13.3). Table 13.3 illustrates the rank and service from which the three unions recruit their members. Hovedorganisationen af Officerer i Danmar (HOD) represents all commissioned officers from the youngest cadet of the academy to the highest ranking General/Admiral throughout all three services. It means that the HOD organizes within the same union 3,200 ‘employees’ (junior officers) and 450 ‘employers’ (Lt.-Col. upwards). So, HOD is in a similar situation as some Table 13.3 The three Danish Military Trade Unions and Their Membership Basis Personnel
Army
Navy
Air Force
Officers NCOs Regulars
HOD CS HKKF
HOD CS CS
HOD CS CS
Abbreviations Hovedorganisation af Officer i Danmark (HOD) Centralforeningen af Stampersonnel (CS) Hærens Korporal-og konstabelforening (HKKF)
Danish trade unions 203 civilian trade unions for graduates in that it negotiates on behalf of one union member as an employee with another union member as an employer (in other words as an adversary). This does not appear to pose any major problems partly because all parties know their roles, mainly because of the dramatic shift in command and control – ranging from a formal hierarchy at the garrison back home to the complex and often chaotic situations on the battlefield – which is known in the military. Additionally, in contrast to the two other trade unions, the HOD never expresses strong criticism of decisions made by its employer-members (Anholm and Lahrmann 2005, interview). The other two unions are the Centralforeningen af Stampersone (CS) and the Hærens Korporal og konstabelforening (HKKF). The CS organizes the NCO group and all regulars (except the army). It was established in 1967 and has around 6,500 members, which makes it the biggest of the three unions. The HKKF has about 4,300 members from the regular army. This is expected to rise in the future (see Table 13.2). HKKF was established in 1952 and amalgamated with the CS in 1967, but left it in 1984 after it had been granted the right to negotiate in 1973. The following analysis of the role of the three trade unions will be based upon an examination of four themes: • • • •
their relationship with the trade union movement in Denmark their internal affairs, such as aims and statutes a SWOT analysis of the three unions and one of their potential adversary, the DC (based on interviews with deputies from both sides) a perusal of the editorial columns of each union’s journal throughout 2004 (9–10 journals).
On this background the flexibility of the three trade unions and thereby their contribution to military efficiency will be evaluated.
The roles of Danish military trade unions To get an understanding of the role of Danish military trade unions it might be profitable to relate them to the entire trade union system of Denmark. Denmark is a nation of organizations. It is probably one of the most organized countries in the world judging by its high number of political parties, trade unions, cultural groups, sports clubs, to name only a few. It is generally accepted, even expected that most employees will join a union and that includes military personnel as well. Indeed, most Danesh see trade unions as important democratic institutions. In Denmark the trade union system is divided in three parts. The biggest central organisation is Landsorganisationen i Denmark (LO) – the Danish TUC – with around 1,400,000 members out of a total population of 5,400,000 inhabitants. LO recruits blue-collar and white-collar people in the private and the public sector. Funktionærernes og Tjenestemændenes Fællesråd (FTF) is another central organisation representing around 360,000 white-collar employees such as nurses, primary school teachers and policemen, most of whom work in the public sector.
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The third central organization is Akademikernes Centralorganisation (AC) which represents 162,000 graduates in the private and the public sector such as lawyers, economists, architects, university teachers and priests. The three Danish military trade unions are each related to one of these central organizations. The HOD is member of the AC, the CS belongs to the FTF, and the HKKF is a member of the LO. The AC and the FTF have no political party affiliations but the LO and thereby the HKKF is part of the Labour movement. Even so, it is clear that Danish military unions are well integrated in the entire union system. Another reason for relating Danish military unions to the total union system is their identical work of improving the job situation for their members with respect to both salary and terms and conditions of service. Even the union for officers, the HOD, has been granted that right by the Civil Servant Act of 1969. In fact, all Danish soldiers, even the officer corps, have a legal right to strike, though they cannot strike while in uniform and they are not allowed to arrange political protest meetings as part of the negotiating process. But apart from that, military trade unions hold a similar position in Danish society as any other union, and from interviews with union officials it is clear that they see themselves and want to be perceived as just another union. A third reason for treating civil and military trade unions alike is their mutual experiences and problems. One is a decline in the numbers of members. This is a general EU phenomenon (Jensen 2004: 25, Table 1). Denmark has, however (in contrast to most other EU-nations) faced a modest reduction in this rate from 79 per cent in 1980 to 76 per cent in 1997, while only Sweden, Spain and Finland have increased their membership. So, the decline in the rate of members of trade unions in a number of the more well-off European countries such as Germany, Great Britain and Denmark (Jensen 2004: 36) is mirrored in Danish military unions as well, who today face ‘a declining number of trade union members’ (CSbladet, December 2004: 7). Another way of looking at the roles of Danish military unions is to identify their aims according to their statutes and programme declarations. The CS has three main aims: • • •
‘to support the individual member’ ‘to improve the salary and working conditions of the entire group’, and ‘to influence the political system by lobbying initiatives’. (Principprogram for CS 2004: 2 (Princip programme) and CS Vedtægter 2004: §2 (CS Statutes))
In contrast, the HKKF has two main aims (besides equal gender rights and international cooperation): • •
‘to work for the professional, social and economic interests of the individual member’, and ‘to work for better education, employment and environmental conditions for the members’. (HHKF Vedtægter §2 (HKKF Statutes))
Danish trade unions 205 While HOD lists only one aim: •
‘to take care of the professional and conditional interests of the members’. (HOD Vedtægter §2 (HOD Statutes))
All three trade unions are agreed on their main purpose – that of improving the interests of their members. However, they do not cooperate with one another in this respect. They do, though, compare the results of their negotiations and, in particular, their members watch these results with keen interest (See: Danske officerer July 2004 ‘Ren løntilbagegang’; CS-Bladet March 2005: 18, ‘Kan det være rigtigt’). Therefore, they indirectly compete with one another. In short, Danish military trade unions do not compete in recruiting members and they do not coordinate their bargaining efforts but they and their members do compare the outcomes – and therefore the unions could be said to compete on results. This competing process takes place when Danish trade unions negotiate with the DC in defining the competences needed to qualify for a job and then to find the right person for it. Here, the HOD and the DC meet as adversaries with the CS as closely observing the outcomes. Sometimes, though, the CS negotiates with the DC and the HOD is the interested observer. Their arguments differ. The HOD aims to deliver a higher education but accompanied by a higher salary, while the CS concentrates on the specific education requirements appropriate for the job and at a lower cost. The DC then has to find a balance between salary, job and competence. But for all three unions the name of the game is education. ‘Education is the key for further promotion and higher salary’ (Busse 2005, interview). However, a new factor has recently come to the fore as a consequence of the new foreign and defence policy. With Danish soldiers now being deployed abroad the problem of trade union influence on such missions is being discussed. This new theme is not mentioned in the statutes of the trade unions for the simple reason that they basically have no right to interfere in the employer’s sovereignty of managing and controlling its employees. Of course, the Cooperation Agreement grants trade unions a right to present any aspect of mutual interest for the employer and the employees to debate. But, a right to put themes on the agenda does not automatically include the right to influence the outcome. Better arguments are therefore needed and here trade unions introduce new military concepts such as the ‘citizen in uniform’ (HKKF Vedtægter §2) – which in military sociology is usually confined to conscripts and the Swiss type of militia defence – or ‘man in the armed forces’ (CS-Bladet November 2004). Such discussions provide a needed legitimacy for the further influence of trade unions because they now include the subject of missions to be an area for negotiating even if it previously was out of their reach. Trade unions have also opened discussions on areas outside their remit such as the type of weaponry and equipment to be used by the Danish armed forces. Questions such as which type of rifle is the best, should the German A5 tanks be modified or should Dutch or Swedish versions be bought instead, and should the Gulfstream be replaced by a Challenger have been raised in the recent past
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(Christiansen 2005, interview). Recently, they have even suggested specific, though minor, initiatives related to the mission and its consequences, such as: 1
2
3
4
5
‘Buddy arrangements’ whereby veterans are invited to meet up for reunions. This idea was initiated on 15 May 2001 at the Vordingborg Garrison as a private initiative but has now been given public funding of 2 mio DKK a year during the five year period 2005–2009 (CS-Bladet 2004: 3). The idea of family support centres (Familiestøttesentre) was initiated by the CS. Here, before deployment, soldiers or veterans or family members of deployed soldiers are invited to meet and debate mutual problems (CS-Bladet November 2004: 14). ‘Stop-over’ meetings for a better acclimatization of soldiers returning from missions abroad were suggested by the HKKF (Fagligt forsvar December 2004: 19). A reduction in the tour of service abroad from six months (including two to three weeks of leave) to around four months has been presented by each of the three trade unions independently. (See the editorial analysis below.) ‘The CS has suggested that the armed forces initiates an investigation into the physical and social consequences for soldiers and their families due to the term, frequency and type of service in missions abroad’ (CS Bladet November 2004: 13).
Suggestions 1–3 focus on assisting family members of new veterans and deployed soldiers, while 4 and 5 are issues indicating attempts to increase trade union influence – not only on aspects before and after the mission – but on the mission itself. A third way of identifying the role of the Danish military trade unions is to construct a SWOT analysis describing their present combined strength, weaknesses, options, and threats vis-à-vis the DC based on observations, interviews and literature (see Figure 13.2).
Internal
Strengths Knowledge, Exclusivity and high organization rate, Assist in re-educating/ replacing soldiers CS & HKKF have political relations, however, differently
Weaknesses Competition between unions for jobs Political agreement reduces trade union influence
External
Opportunities Appeal to the Public Opinion Cooperation between Trade unions Cooperation in EUROMIL
Threats Members may quit union membership Too strong DC
Figure 13.2 SWOT Analysis of the Danish Trade Unions – The Employees
Danish trade unions 207 The Strength of trade unions is in their knowledge, exclusivity with a high membership, and good political relations. However, this can be seen in each union in different ways. For example the CS, broadly speaking, has no political affiliations, whereas the HKKF is allied to a specific political party. Their Weaknesses are in the competition between them on jobs which puts the DC in the position of being able to pick and choose between the different options. For instance, a job as chief of a military garage abroad may be given to an officer, an NCO, or even a civilian. It is for the DC (or more precisely the FPT) to decide. Trade unions have two options, one of public appeal (which they have actually used several times) or one of organizational cooperation where the trade unions combine their resources towards the powerful employer of the FPT or the DC (which they have very rarely used). In short, the PFT is simply their biggest Threat and, at the same time, their only opportunity for further improvements for their members. In fact, Danish military trade unions are in a similar situation to Denmark during the Cold War. They have to seek security (that is improvements for their members) but from the same actor that is their main threat. The Strengths and Weaknesses of the DC and FPT are by and large an opposite reflection to that of the trade unions. Their Strengths lie in their right to interpret the Defence Agreement, i.e. to define, decide and implement. Their Weaknesses are the rotation of career officers after two to four years in any job and thereby damaging the expertise compiled. This rotation is quite different from the lifetime occupation of the elected leadership and staffs of the trade unions. Another Weakness is in a trade union buy-out in which they pay smart DC employees twice their salary for serving in the union staff instead. A third is the perennial economic problem of failing to balance their budget. An example from 2004 is the decision of the JCS to implement the inevitable reduction of the defence budget of 1.2 billion DKK, the equivalent of the dismissal of 400 contracted soldiers. It caused much criticism, especially as it was later admitted to being a mistake – the budget was not overspent. The DC options are basically to choose among people to fill specific job vacancies. Here, the DC may profit from the unions’ competition for jobs and it has much room for manoeuvring as it is accepted that the DC or FPT – as any employer – wants to hire well-qualified personnel as cheaply as possible even if that means choosing civilians instead of soldiers (Frandsen 2005, interview). Another option for the DC – to meet the damage of rotation – is to engage civilian professional expertise to match the expertise of the staffs of the trade union. Threats for the DC are unbalanced political statements by top officers, in particular those demonstrating a lack of understanding of democratic control of the armed forces. Another threat is the lobbying efforts of the CS and the HKKF. But they are reduced as long as broad political consensus on the Danish armed forces exists. A fourth way of identifying the role of the Danish military trade unions is by a qualitative content analysis of the editorial articles in their house journals during 2004. Each article can be placed in one of four categories with an obviously decreasing level influence for the trade unions: from internal affairs, which are within the trade union’s control such as structure, staff, membership and finance;
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Table 13.4 Content Analysis of Editorials of the 2004 Journals of Danish Military Trade Unions External affairs
Danske Officerer (HOD) CS-Bladet (CS) Fagligt forsvar (HKKF)
Internal affairs
Organization
Policy
Missions
No of journals
0
5
4
1
10
2
3
4
0
9
2
2
4
2
9
via external organizational relations to the DC when negotiating salary, work, function, and terms and conditions of service (i.e. normal trade union activities) via political lobbying directed to the political system; and finally to the missions themselves, issues on which trade unions have only limited influence (see Table 13.4). Table 13.4 looks at an identical number of editorial articles containing elements of lobbying in which trade unions are commenting on political negotiations for the new defence agreement. These show that while the HOD and the HKKF in their statutes do not mention lobbying as an aim they are actually involved in this process. In the editorial articles all three unions formulate two hopes in this respect – broad political acceptance in Parliament of a new Defence Agreement and political recognition of aims and resources to meet the new policies. However, though all three trade unions lobby and politicize they differ with respect to editorial articles on organizational (in particular the HOD) and mission (in particular the HKKF) issues. Even though the data set here is limited it underlines, nevertheless, some expected differences such as the major aim of the HOD being salary and that of the HKKF being military missions. Based on this scrutiny of the role of the Danish trade unions, the question that arises is: Have Danish trade unions proved their flexibility to adapt to the demands and consequences of the new foreign and defence policies? At the internal affairs level, the two broad-ranging trade unions, the HOD and the CS, are particularly threatened. They suffer from the downsizing of many military installations and agencies. For instance, the Defence Agreement has reduced the number of employees in the present personnel service from around 1,200 to 670 (Larsen 2005, interview). Another result is that fewer shop stewards are needed to negotiate locally as the PFT will do so nationally. ‘The division of the armed forces into three services has been eroded’ (Christiansen 2005, interview). Furthermore, ‘many support soldiers of the HOD and the CS will become obsolete unless they can be re-trained to become operative soldiers’ (Larsen 2005, interview). Only the CS (and not the HOD) has shown a willingness to adapt to the new structure (CS-Bladet December 2004: 7). This is evident in its editorial article in which it states that: ‘The most important reason for a new structure (for the CS)
Danish trade unions 209 is … the new structure of the Danish defence organization’ (CS-Bladet September 2004: 19). But it is obvious that the HOD will have to change in the near future, as well. So, with respect to the question of the flexibility of military trade unions at the internal level the score is one down (HOD) and one up (CS), i.e. a draw. At the organizational level trade unions acknowledge the consequences of the new foreign and defence policy for future negotiations. ‘The most decisive change for our members is deployment abroad. It has influenced our collective bargaining themes completely’ (Busse-interview 2005). Actually, the abuse of deploying soldiers too frequently, i.e. more than 250 or 450 days during a three-year period, means that DC has to pay almost twice or three times as much as the usual salary. So, here the score is evident, one up for the trade unions as they have understood and do support their members to profit from the new foreign and defence policy. At the policy level Danish military unions will support almost any Defence Agreement as long as it has broad political consensus. The headline – ‘CS welcomes the new Defence Agreement’ (Press release 10 June 2004) demonstrates an expected flexibility. However, this demand from the CS: ‘This movement (of people and agencies) will have to be the last one for a very long period of time… In future we will demand geographical guarantees of no more relocation of people the next three to five to eight years’ is only for ‘internal use’ (Pindsvinet 2005). The reality is that should the Danish Parliament decide on a new Defence Agreement tomorrow, any union, civil or military, will have to adapt accordingly. So the statement is for internal and not for external political use. But the score is again a draw. For on the one hand, the CS has explicitly formulated their aim of lobbying, meeting informally with representatives from the major political parties in Parliament once or twice a year (Christiansen 2005, interview) and have over the last decade informed public opinion of their views on a future defence policy through publications such as ‘A Useful Defence’, ‘Defence at the Crossroad’, and ‘A Flexible Defence for the Future’. But on the other hand, the CS gives the impression of opposing a legitimate political decision in Parliament and thereby being inflexible to changes in foreign and defence policies. At the mission level the initiatives of Danish trade unions to influence the situation of veterans demonstrate both a flexible attitude and a recognition that ‘… we will soon have young veterans who have seen service abroad’ (Larsen 2005, interview). A more comprehensive example of the flexibility of Danish trade unions is the fact that they have travelled all the way from defensive, nonprovocative actor in the Cold War period to strategic offensive actor today. Of course, any trade union has the right to work for another foreign policy and defence policy such as the CS scepticism of a Danish ‘first in first out’ capacity (Christiansen 2005, interview). But the argument from trade unions of a shorter term of mission reveals both a lack of flexibility and a poor memory in that they seem to have forgotten that increased rotation implies reduced efficiency. However, they may just be trying to negotiate in the middle of a bargaining term hoping to change previously settled negotiations. So, even here we end up with a balanced scorecard showing that Danish trade union are both participating and opposing military flexibility at the mission level.
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However, on the bottom line, it could be said that trade unions contribute positively to military efficiency and no one in Denmark wants to see their demise, not even the employer – the DC (Frandsen 2005, interview). They increase efficiency when they collect, inform and influence the attitudes of their members; cooperate in cases of dismissal due to a low personal evaluation or unacceptable behaviour; motivate members to re-educate and they take the blame in cases of payment, working conditions, not the employer, thereby reducing tensions between employer and employee in missions abroad. However, the major contribution of Danish trade unions to military efficiency is probably their educational impact on members’ learning and practising democracy at home and abroad. Through trade union activity they learn good behaviour abroad. ‘Danish soldiers will never become Rambo-warriors due to their democratic and professional rights taught in society and as trade union members’ (Larsen 2005, interview). It could be a central reason for the very few incidents of unacceptable behaviour of Danish soldiers abroad. If so, then the role and contribution of Danish military unions to military efficiency is undeservedly ignored.
References Christiansen, Karl Vilhelm (2004) ‘Er hærens struktur skabt for officererne?’ (‘Is the structure of the army made only for officers?’) in CS-Bladet November: 4. CS-Bladet (November 2004) Temanr om CS-kongressen (Special issue for the CS Congress). ——— (2004) ‘Ny struktur i en fart’, (‘New structure in a hurry’) December, report by CS chairman Finn Busse. ——— (2005) ‘Kan det være rigtigt’ (‘Is this all right?’) March: 18. CS Vedtægter (2004) (‘Statutes for CS’) 29 November. Dahl, Poul (2004) ‘Sikkerhedspolitik og moral’ (‘Security policy and ethics’) in Danske Officerer, Juni: 9. Danish Defence Agreement (2004) 12 pp + enclosure: ‘Sammentænkning af civil og militær indsats i internationale operationer’ (‘Combining civil and military efforts in international operations’): 15–16. Danske officerer (July 2004) ‘Ren løntilbagegang’ (‘Pure Salary – reduction’): 6. Danske Officerer (Jan 2005) ‘Danske styrker i udlandet’ (‘Danish Armed Forces Abroad’), 26. Forsvarsfokus (2005) ‘Danmark sætter alle midler ind’, (‘Denmark invests in full’) No. 5: 4. Heurlin, Bertel (1995), ‘Security problems in the new Europe’ in Hansen, Birthe (ed.) European Security, 2000, Copenhagen Political Studies Press. Jensen, Carsten Strøby (2004) ‘Fagbevægelsen i Europa – holdninger blandt borgerne i Europa’ (‘Trade union movements in Europe – Public opinion among citizens in Europe’): 25–37 in Økonomi & Politik, No. 4, December. Jyllandsposten (2005) ‘Forsvaret kæmper med økonomien’ (‘Danish armed forces have budget problems’): 2. Kommissorium for Arbejdsgruppen vedr. ny CS struktur, 3 p. download 07.03.2005. Lund, Christian (2005) ‘Danske soldater gode til demokrati’ (‘Danish soldiers are good at democracy’) in CS-Bladet 2. February.
Danish trade unions 211 Pindsvinet (2005) Available HTTP: (Accessed 7 March 2005). Principprogram for CS (2004) (‘Princip programme’) 29 November, §2. Rynning, Sten (2003) ‘Danish Security Policy after 11 September’ in Danish Foreign Policy Yearbook 2003 (Copenhagen 2003): 24. Termansen, Dan B., Stine Lehrmann Larsen and Sofie Schrøder (2004) First-in kapacitet og dansk forsvar (Copenhagen: DIIS).
Interviews Allan Anholm, HOD, Chief of Staff, and Henning Lahrmann, Chief of Information, 20 January 2005, 08.30–09.45. Finn Busse, Chairman of CS, 20 January 2005, 08.30–09.45. Svend Erik Larsen, Ex-chairman of HKKF, 27 January 2005, 15.00–17.00. Karl Vilhelm Christensen, CS-Editor, 1 March 2005, 10.00–11.45. GL Jens E. Frandsen, Danish Defence Command, PST, 1 March 2005, 08.45–10.00.
Abbreviations AC DC FPT FTF LO SWOT
Akademikernes Centralorganisation, recruits all types of graduates and represents 160,000 members Danish Defence Command Forsvarets Personel Tjeneste Funktionærernes og Tjenestemændenes Fællesråd, represents around 360,000 employees, most of them working in the public sector Landsorganisationen i Danmark (the Danish TUC) has 1,400,000 members analysis illuminating the strength, weaknesses, options and threats of an actor, organization, here the Danish trade unions
14 Placing military unionism in a comparative perspective Richard Bartle
INTRODUCTION With the notable exception of one book – Left Face – Soldier Unions and Resistance Movements in Modern Armies – (Cortright and Watts 1991) little has been written about military unionism for about 30 years. Though very popular in the 1970s since then the subject seems to have dropped out of mainstream debate. However, since the end of the Cold War, almost all the military in Western countries has been subjected to continuous and, in many cases, drastic change. Armed forces have seen significant cuts in personnel and funding often accompanied by a move from mass conscript armies to smaller, volunteer professional forces. At the same time, social and cultural changes, especially among the young, from whom the military hopes to recruit, has produced what has been described as a ‘post-deferential society’ (Dandeker and Paton 1997). Widespread criticism and questioning of the hitherto accepted symbols of authority, such as the legal system, politics, the church, the armed forces and even the family, has challenged the very basis of Western society. In particular, modern attitudes towards authority seem to have changed from the Victorian values (still prevalent until the 1960s) of obedience and duty to one of persuasion and consensus. Inevitably, fundamental values of the military culture have come under attack with the resultant defence being based around a case for the military’s ‘right to be different’ – a plea for the maintenance of a culture based upon the maintenance of ‘good order and military discipline’ that has proved itself in the past and which conservatives believe to be necessary for success in the future. The conflict between these two approaches is at the heart of the debate about unionisation and representation in the armed forces. This book shows how different societies have met these new challenges to the way armed forces function by looking at forms of representation in both unionised and non-unionised militaries.
ARMED FORCES WITHOUT UNIONS The four countries chosen to represent this category almost chose themselves as they are the only major members of NATO (apart from the United States of
Placing military unionism in perspective 213 America) that have still not accepted some form of representation outside the chain of command. It is interesting to note that three of the four countries have a similar history of revolution and the use of force. Both Britain and France owe their present constitutional position, at least in part, to revolutions involving the use of armed force. In Britain, the English Civil War (as it is known) reformed parliament and limited the power of the monarchy, whilst the French Revolution saw the eventual demise of the monarchy altogether. The modern Italian state was also formed by force of arms in a revolution that led to the subsequent unification of Italy. As a result, in each case the perceived need for civilian control of the military has become a basic tenet of civil–military relations. Military unions are seen by many as a threat to this control. Although Canada has not had a revolution, it owes its heritage to both British and French influences. Whilst it eventually became a member of the British Empire (and then the Commonwealth) for many years areas of Canada were considered to be part of the French Empire. Indeed, in a large part of Canada, French is the first language and some state governments have French-Canadian majorities. Consequently, it should be no surprise that the British and French influences in Canada have resulted in similar establishment opposition to military unionism and a conviction that civilian control of the military and even military authority would be undermined by independent representation. A large number of similarities are evident in all four chapters especially the continued emphasis of the chain of command as the only legitimate means of both representation and the protection of certain written and unwritten rights. In the Canadian chapter this is described as a ‘social contract’ which in all but name seems to be the same as the ‘psychological contract’ described in the British chapter. As this is unwritten it is not easy to identify its parts. However, it would appear that the military hierarchy is expected to look after the interests of military personnel in return for an unlimited commitment, which could result in the sacrifice of one’s life. Trust in this system seems to have rapidly diminished in recent years for a variety of reasons, which are explained in the four chapters. Consequently, servicemen and women in all four countries have identified the need for a system of representation outside the discredited chain of command. Italy’s approach to this is somewhat different from the other three. It already has an institutionalised system of representation based around a representative body elected by members of the armed forces. Though, arguably, separate from the chain of command, it is governed by rules and regulations limiting its actions to merely an advisory role. In addition, the military personnel serving on these committees are still governed by military discipline. Consequently they face the dilemma of trying to represent their electors’ wishes whilst not disobeying the dictates of their senior officers. There are legal barriers to the unionisation of the military in all four countries. Though there are differences in some aspects there are many similarities in the way in which civilian control of the military is maintained in Britain, Canada, Italy and France. In all cases there are restrictions on the right to assembly, to
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join unions or to strike. France has the most stringent laws with active military personnel being legally barred from setting up unions either specific to the military or even existing civilian trade unions. They are also not allowed to join professional associations since, it is said, an association’s goal is to defend the professional rights and interests of its members. In Italy, military personnel are specifically barred from forming or joining either professional associations of a trade union nature or belonging to other trade union organisations. Britain has the least restrictive laws in this regard although the outcome is much the same. Whilst specific military unions are probably illegal (but see Clark 2002) military personnel are allowed to join both professional associations and civilian trade unions if it can be shown that membership will provide some benefit to military members in their profession and they are not involved in any political activity as a result of their membership. Canada lies somewhere in between, with existing laws preventing collective representation but with the possibility of change on the horizon. In a landmark court case Canadian Forces have recently been given the right to associate freely in independent organisations for the collective exercise of lawful individual rights and the protection to ensure that the Canadian Forces cannot legally prevent members from doing so. However, as yet no one has attempted to put this into practice. Future prospects for military unionisation in all four countries are mixed. In France, there would appear to be little likelihood of change especially as a new Statute has only just been introduced reinforcing the status quo. In Italy, the subject of military trade unions has limited interest within the military and it is not a subject of public interest at this time. Therefore, despite some indications of a demand for some form of representation outside the chain of command, the prospects of a change in the present system seem remote. In Britain as in Canada, the situation is very fluid. However, unlike Canada, in Britain there have been no legal challenges to the present position vis-à-vis military unions and this is despite the House of Commons Defence Committee recently calling for ‘robust arrangements’ for the representation of the views of more junior ranks to more senior officers and government officials (House of Commons Defence Committee 2004: 18.64). In addition, there have also been newspaper reports that under European Human Rights law it would be illegal to continue to prevent service personnel from joining trade unions (Clark 2002). A ‘senior ministry source’ was quoted as saying that it would be impossible to prevent soldiers from forming some kind of federation to represent their interests. In Canada, recent court case notwithstanding, the military hierarchy have recently examined the current legal status and potential options surrounding the freedom of association issue. They have concluded that unionisation of military members under the current legal framework is not a right that can be claimed (Canadian Forces 2001). However, like the British MoD it has also conceded that it is unlikely that it will be able to prevent its members from associating together to exercise their lawful individual rights in a collective fashion. In both cases, however, it would appear that unless some catalyst appears to change the current state of affairs, Britain and Canada, like France and Italy, will continue to be the only large Western states, other than the USA, whose armed forces lack the basic human right to form a union.
Placing military unionism in perspective 215 COUNTRIES RECENTLY UNIONISED In three of the four countries represented in this section, their recent history is one of cathartic change. Indeed, Slovenia and Ireland came into being as the direct result of an open, armed revolution, whereas the changes in South Africa stemmed from a number of factors, one of which was also an armed struggle. Inevitably, the use of military force to achieve political aims has coloured opinions on military unionism and the connected topics of civilian control of the military and the possible influence of unions on the politicisation of the armed forces. Consequently, in varying degrees, attempts to achieve and develop military unions have been met with opposition from both military and civilian authorities. Though Australia has not experienced the same traumatic history during its achievement of statehood, the struggle for unionisation in the military has also met the same kinds of opposition as in the other three countries. Alone amongst the four states, Slovenia inherited a system in which unionisation was not only accepted, but expected. However, it was not unionisation as we know it. This was a state-run unitarist system formed to serve the interests of the political elite and in which the leaders of the unions (or syndicates as they are known) were members of that elite. One syndicate was allowed per industry or profession and its function was to ensure cooperation not confrontation. Consequently, the prospect of an organisation that would fight for the rights of its members was opposed just as strongly by the military hierarchy in Slovenia as it was in Australia, Ireland and South Africa. Australia was the first of the four nations to achieve some form of representation in the military. The background to the moves towards unionisation was the growing sense of injustice over the treatment of service personnel and their lack of trust in the old paternalistic system to ensure that the senior officers would represent their subordinates in the fight for better pay and conditions. This is a recurrent theme that was evident in the other three countries as well, albeit one that surfaced at a somewhat later date. In Australia, the government’s reaction to demands for a fairer, more representative system was to set up a negotiating body comprising senior military and civil service personnel. In this body, arguments were put by the Chief of the Australian Defence Forces and the Head of the Department of Industrial Relations on behalf of the rank and file. Inevitably this did nothing to eradicate the lack of trust in senior officers to look after their men and women especially as both of these senior officers were also representatives of the government in one way or another. In Ireland, a similar decline in pay and conditions created the initial impetus towards unionisation. Unfortunately, the military were forbidden, by law, from making representations or publicising their case in the media. However, this did not prevent wives from taking up the struggle on their husbands’ behalf. The consequent intimidation and generally bad treatment of many of the serving husbands, because of the political lobbying of their wives, served only to increase public support for their cause. Whilst there was not the same reaction in Slovenia or South Africa, the poor treatment of service personnel sowed the seeds for a demand for some form of independent representation.
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In 1984, the Australian armed forces were able to set up a Forces Federation to represent them in their struggles for improvements in terms and conditions of service. However, it was not until some ten years later that the armed forces in the remaining states were as successful. Here, as well as the cuts resulting from either the end of the Cold War or the need for economies of scale (or even both) there was a general move away from conscript to volunteer armies. Inevitably, this resulted in an increased professionalism and, as a consequence, a move from an institutional to an occupational approach to military service and, in Ireland and South Africa, a changing culture that became more receptive to the idea of unionisation. Slovenia already had a culture that was receptive to a form of unionisation but it was not until this time that the military began to accept the idea of a form of unionism in which representation could entail discussion, consultation and even disagreement. The attainment of unionisation was, arguably, easier in Slovenia than in the other countries due to the prevailing socialist, pro-union culture, whereas, in South Africa, Australia and Ireland, it was only achieved after lengthy legal battles. In each case it took the actions of a number of brave officers to set up representative organisations and challenge the existing laws before any change occurred. Inevitably, this was followed by various government and military interventions and legal challenges. That the pro-union factions prevailed is evidenced by the existence of military representative bodies in all three states. However, the continued existence of some of these organisations remains in doubt. The success story must undoubtedly be Ireland where the union membership is over 90 per cent for enlisted men and nearly 100 per cent for officers. The relationship between the unions and the officer corps, the Minister for Defence, and the Department of Defence is one of cooperation and partnership. However, this is not the case in Australia where the feeling that any organisation resembling a trade union has no part in the military is still strong. Consequently, with falling numbers and problems with recruitment, the future viability of a military union is uncertain. Whereas in both South Africa and Slovenia the unions are still in a state of flux and are still working from a more confrontational approach towards the kind of cooperative partnership that exists in Ireland. It would appear that, with the notable exception of Ireland, the unions in the other states in this section could benefit from a study of those that have been in existence for a longer period of time.
COUNTRIES UNIONISED FOR SOME TIME Those looking for many similarities among those countries with well-established military unions are bound to be disappointed. In each case their origins were different and the rationale for military unions was based upon different premises. The kinds of organisations that have evolved do not seem to fit any one model but have a uniqueness that is specific to each nation and its outlook on unionisation in general and military unionisation in particular.
Placing military unionism in perspective 217 New or would-be military unions often hold up Germany as the model to aspire to; and the German system does have many elements that might be attractive to them. However, a closer look at the origins of military unions in all four countries shows the different paths taken to arrive at the present state of affairs. The Netherlands, for example, has the longest history of some form of military representation with associations whose origins can be traced back to the nineteenth century. Its near neighbour, Belgium, also developed military associations in the 1920s, whereas Denmark and Germany had no unions for their armed forces until after the Second World War. The basic structures of these unions differ considerably. The Germans have the simplest and most successful system in which all servicemen and women are represented by a single union. Furthermore, this union (the Bundeswehr-Verband) has a membership of over 250,000 and is recognised as being one of the most effective military pressure groups in the world (perhaps the most effective). In the other countries the unions are based upon rank and whilst this would seem a logical approach to military unionisation, membership is said to be in decline. Inevitably, relations between these unions and their respective governments (as employers) vary according to the rights accorded to them. In Denmark, for example, military personnel are considered to be the same as any government employee and consequently have the same rights as civil servants, with the exception of the right to strike, which, as would be expected, is specifically prohibited in all the military unions examined in this book. In Belgium, all unions (including the military ones) are based upon a neo-corporatist approach to employment relations which limits the number of unions to one for each sector of employment. This is further complicated in the military by the existence of both representative and non-representative unions (based upon the size of their membership). But, fundamentally, there are three unions that are rank based. This is the same in Denmark but less well defined. Whereas it is possible to make a specific demarcation in the Belgian unions according to rank, the Danish unions seem to be based more upon education (which, with some exceptions, generally amounts to the same thing). The Dutch initially had a system that was based upon rank but the gradual move from a unitarist approach to a form of consultative pluralism has fragmented the original simpler system. Today, after a period of amalgamation and separation, there are now five unions with no clear representative groupings. Because of the nature of the development of unionisation in most countries, one would expect unions to be fundamentally the same, but it should be no surprise that they also differ in many ways. This is the case in the four countries with the longest history of military trade unions. They vary from the simplest system of one union for all (in Germany) to one union for each rank (in Denmark and Belgium) to a number of unions (in the Netherlands). However, they all have two things in common – the desire to represent the interests of military personnel and the rejection of strike action as a means of achieving their aims.
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CLOSING COMMENTS The compilation of this book has been an interesting exercise in international cooperation, bringing together 16 authors from 11 countries. All have some academic and often personal interest and involvement in the contentious subject of military unionism. This is an area of continuing interest to many and, despite declining membership in some areas, is vital for the continued well-being of our servicemen and women who daily put their lives at risk for our security. In many cases they do not have the same rights as the rest of us and it is important that they have an opportunity to have their views represented. Since the end of the Cold War military personnel have had to deal with redundancy, massive cut-backs in expenditure (and the resultant lack of equipment) and increasing numbers of overseas deployments. As well as having its inevitable effect on servicemen and women, it also adversely affects their families. Unions are needed to represent the interests of the military and to make sure that decisions are not taken without their being consulted. In countries where there are no unions this has proved to be a major problem. There is a growing lack of trust in the paternalistic chain of command to represent the lower ranks particularly, and all ranks in general. Knowledge of the existence, functions and successes of military unions elsewhere can encourage the formation of new representative bodies to work for fair treatment for servicemen and women. It is hoped that this book might re-open the debate that has languished since the 1970s and give people food for thought about the benefits of independent representation outside the chain of command.
References Canadian Forces (2001) Freedom of Association Policy Review Briefing Package. Directorate of Military Gender Integration and Employment Equity, Ottawa, ON. Clark, J. (2002) ‘Army forced to allow unions’, The Sunday Times, 10 March. Cortwright, D. and Watts, M. (1991) Left Face – Soldier Unions and Resistance Movements in Modern Armies. New York: Greenwood Press. Dandeker, C. and Paton, F. (1997) The Military and Social Change: A Personnel Strategy for the British Armed Forces. London: Brassey’s. House of Commons Defence Committee (2004) Lessons of Iraq, Third Report of Session 2003–2004. Volume 1: Report. HC 57-1. London: The Stationery Office Ltd.
Index
ADF. See Australia Defence Force. AFPRB. See Armed Forces Pay Review Body. ArFFA (Armed Forces Federation of Australia), 138–39; changes in the ADF, 143–45; civilian workplace changes, 142–43; governmental factors, 140–41; future prospects, 146; other unions, 141–42; societal factors, 141–43; success rate, 140–45 Armed Forces Federation of Australia. See ArFFA. Armed Forces Pay Review Body (AFPRB), 26 Armed forces: military unionism, perspectives of, 212–18; pressures on society, 2; reasons for unionization, 2; recent unionism, perspectives of, 215–16; trend to smaller forces, 1; unionised for some time, perspectives of, 216–17; without unions, perspectives of, 212–14 Australia Defence Force: early history, 132–34; Federal Government, relations with, 136–38; formation of union, 138–40; ArFFA (Armed Forces Federation of Australia), 138–39; postVietnam era, 134–35; pre-unionisation, 135–36; unionization of, 9, 133–47 Australia Federal Government: Australia Defence Force, relations with, 136–138; creation of DRFT (Defence Force Remuneration Tribunal), 136 Belgium armed forces, unionisation and, 9–10 Belgium armed forces 9–10: military unions, 153–62; civilian unionism in, 153–54 collective bargaining, 159–61; historical context, 154–57; limitations
of, 155–56; non-representative unions, 158; origins of, 154–55; post-Cold War strategic plan and, 156–57; recognition of, 155–56; representative unions, 158; union delegates, 159; unionisation rate, 158–59 Bett, Sir Michael, Independent Review of the Armed Forces’ Manpower, Career and Renumeration Structures, 17–18 British armed forces: Armed Forces Pay Review Body (AFPRB) 26; Bett, Sir Michael, 17–18; conception of, 19–21; downsizing of, 21–22; European Convention on Human Rights, 29; failure of chain of command, 25–27; federation representation, 28–30; institution vs. occupation, 19–20; lack of trust, 22–25; police, differences in, 28–30; present representation, 25–27; reaction to change, 20; reasons for unionization, 22–25; relationship with society, 18–21; Soldiers’, Sailors’ and Airmen’s Union (SSAU), 17; survivor syndrome, 22; unionisation and, 4 British police force: armed forces, differences in, 28–30; Police Negotiating Board (PNB), 28 Bundeswehr, German armed forces, 165 Bundeswehr-Verband, 168–73 Canadian armed forces: attempt to unionize, 71–72, 75–76; attitudes toward unionization, 77–79; Canadian Forces Reorganization Act of 1966, 70; grievance procedures, 76–77; lack of military unions, 68–69; military unions, 68–81; post-Cold War period, 72–76; concept of social contract, 72–76; post-World War II period, erosion of political power, 68–72;
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Public Service Staff Relations Act of 1967, 71; relationship to civil government, 68–76; review of government support for, 72–76; right to collective bargaining, 79–80; rise of civilian control, 70–72; unionisation and, 6; withdrawal from NATO, 69 Canadian civil government, relationship to armed forces, 68–76 Canadian Forces Reorganization Act of 1966, 70 Chain of command, British armed forces failure of, 25–27 Citizen in uniform: 168–71 Civilian employees, Italian armed forces and, 37–38 Collective bargaining: Belgium military and, 159–61; Canadian armed forces right to, 79–80 Conscript-volunteer model, Italian armed forces and, 35 Consultative structures, Netherlands and, 188–92 Danish armed forces:composition of, 201; current defence policy, 200–02; current foreign policy, 198–99; military trade unions, 202–10; unions and, 12, 198–10 Danish military trade unions, 202–10; role of, 203–10 Defence Force Remuneration Tribunal. See DRFT. DND Ombudsman, 77 Downsizing, British armed forces and, 21–22 EUROMIL (European Association of Military Associations), 124; fundamental principles of, 124–25 European Association of Military Associations. See EUROMIL. European Convention on Human Rights, 29 European Organisation for Military Associations (EUROMIL), 68 Fabian Society paper, 23 Federation representation, 28–30 Flexible Service System, SANDF and, 87 French armed forces: fear of military unions, 53–56; military unions, 48–63; prospects for unionization, 60–63; restricted citizenship of, 50–52; unionisation and, 5–6
German armed forces: Bundeswehr, 165; Bundeswehr-Verband, 168; citizen in uniform concept, 168–71; mission during Cold War, 165–66; post-Cold War restructuring, 166–68; unionisation and, 10–11, 165–74 Grievance procedures, Canadian armed forces and, 76–77 Hackett, Sir John, 19 Independent Review of the Armed Forces’ Manpower, Career and Renumeration Structures, 17–18 Innere Fuhrung, concept of, 169–70 Irish defence forces: current roles, 126–29; military wives, 128; PDFORRA, 124 struggle for unionization, 122–25; success of representation, 127–29; unionisation of, 8–9, 120–30 Italian armed forces: civilian employees of, 37–38; conscript-volunteer model, 35; discontent of, 39–40; governing bodies, 41–43; increased recruitment, 35; Italian police force and, 35; military unions, 35–46; outsourcing of tasks, 38; representation of, 40–43; restructuring of, 36–37; unionisation and, 4–5 Italian police force, 35 Joyce, Eric: Fabian Society paper, 23; New Management Strategy (NMS), 24 Limits to participation, Netherlands and, 188–92 Military and society, relationship of, 18–21 Military corporatism, 68 Military unions: British armed forces, 17–31; Canadian armed forces and, 68–81; countries with, 17; early history, 17; European Organisation for Military Associations (EUROMIL), 68; French armed forces, 48–63; Italian armed forces and, 35–46; post-Cold War era, 1–12; South Africa and, 85–98 Military wives, Irish defence forces and, 128 NATO: Canada’s withdrawal from, 69; Slovenia armed forces and, 103–04
Index 221 Netherlands: civilian labour unions, 178–80; military unions in, 11–12, 177–93; consultative pluralism, 192–93; consultative structures, 188–92; decline in membership, 179; history of, 180–87; limitations of, 188–92; pluralist culture, 177–78 New Management Strategy (NMS): 24–25 NMS. See New Management Strategy, 24 Non-representative unions: Belgium military and, 158 Outsourcing: Italian armed forces and, 38–40 PDFORRA (Permanent Defence Forces Other Ranks Representative Association), 124 Permanent Defence Forces Other Ranks Representative Association. See PDFORRA. PNB. See Police Negotiating Board. Police Negotiating Board (PNB), 28 Public Service Staff Relations Act of 1967, 71 RACO (Representative Association for Commissioned Officers), 125 Redress of Grievance system, 77 Representative Association for Commissioned Officers. See RACO. Representative unions: Belgium military and, 158 Restricted citizenship: French armed forces and, 50–52
SANDF, 85–96; accommodation of, 93–96; evolution of, 85–86; recognizing other unions, 93–96; resistance by, 90–92; transformation of, 86–88 SANDU (South African National Defence Union): formation of, 90; obtaining recognition, 92–93; resistance by SANDF, 90–92 SASFU, South African Security Forces Union, 93 SCONDVA. See Standing Committee on National Defence and Veterans Affairs. Slovenia armed forces: military unionism, 101–116; NATO, 103–04; soldier morale, 105–09; structural reorganization, 105–09 Social contract, Canadian armed forces and government, 72–76 Soldiers’, Sailors’ and Airmen’s Union, (SSAU), 17 South Africa armed forces, 85–98 South African Defence Force. See SANDF. South African National Defence Union. See SANDU. South African Security Forces Union. See SASFU. SSAU. See Soldiers’, Sailors’ and Airmen’s Union. Standing Committee on National Defence and Veterans Affairs (SCONDVA), 72 Survivor syndrome, 22 Union delegates, Belgium military and, 159 Unionization, British armed forces and, 22–25
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